


Tearing Sky

by TauraNorma



Series: Flying Colours [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Romance, Blood and Injury, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Fleur Delacour and Bill Weasley's Wedding, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Married Couple, References to Depression, Romance, Second War with Voldemort, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts, Unplanned Pregnancy, Wedding Night, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 66,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26236129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TauraNorma/pseuds/TauraNorma
Summary: “It’s not goodbye. So don’t you dare look at me like that, Remus.”An extraordinary marriage fights for survival.Told through their alternating perspectives, ‘Tearing Sky’ follows Remus and Tonks over the Deathly Hallows canon timeline. It is the sequel to ‘Shadow Boxing’ (pre-reading recommended but not essential) and the final story in the Flying Colours Trilogy.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Series: Flying Colours [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1602856
Comments: 456
Kudos: 323





	1. Something Pink

**Chapter 1: Something Pink**

Tonks knew that if she kept fiddling with her flowers they would get squashed, but her restless fingers wouldn’t leave them alone. A woven chain of indigo lupins encircled her head like a crown, the proud stems with their globe-shaped flowers resting on her hair - a crinkled pink bob that fell to her chin. She blinked at herself in the mirror and filled her cheeks with air before letting out an impatient huff. 

“Get a wriggle on, we’ll be celebrating our anniversary at this rate!” She said, poking at the patterned cloak that divided the small room in two. 

“Patience,” came Remus’ quiet reply from where he stood concealed behind it. 

“If it’s a moustache you’re growing behind there, I’m calling the whole thing off.” 

A faint chuckle, “Wait and see.” 

The room was too cramped to pace, Tonks could only tap the heel of one heavy black boot against the other; each thud an exhortation for the second hand on the clock to tick faster. 

“You’re up to something. I know you are.” 

“Perhaps.”

The wait was infuriating and delicious all at once: it made her thirsty, made her heart flutter, made her want to bounce until her head hit the ceiling. Rejected dresses littered the floor at her feet and Tonks tugged at the one she had chosen - a checked mini-dress, no virginal white lace for her.

“I still haven’t made up my mind,” she called. “Tonks-Lupin or Lupin-Tonks.” 

“A Tonkslupin sounds rather like something that should be studied in Herbology Greenhouse Five.” 

Tonks snorted. 

“Lupin-Tonks it is then. Catchy.” 

“But, Dora…” Remus’ tone became uncertain, “we won’t be changing our names officially, of course. We agreed that - ”

“I know, I know,” she said, poking the curtain again and finding what might have been his shoulder, “not until the war’s over.”

She almost added ‘don’t worry’, but stopped herself: asking Remus Lupin not to worry was like asking the moon to drop out of the sky. After her proposal, as they’d scrambled down from the mountains above Hogsmeade freshly engaged, the beauty of the night spreading out before them, every breathless kiss, every euphoric tear, every giddy burst of laughter had convinced Tonks that Remus’ troubles over their relationship were at an end. This belief lasted all the way up until breakfast the next morning.

“Dora,” he’d said, letting his knife slip from his hand, his toast untouched, “if the Ministry were to find out that you’d married a werewolf in secret, you could lose everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve. Not to mention the fact that the Order would lose a valuable - ”

“The Ministry won’t find out. Simple as. Besides, it’s not technically illegal to marry a werewolf.” 

“Not yet.” 

Tonks had stroked her slippered foot against his pyjama-clad leg under the table and clasped his hand between both of hers.

“We’ll be careful,” she told him, “we’ll keep it all quiet. We’ll build our own little world, just the two of us, and the Ministry won’t get a look in.” 

She leant across the table to kiss him, not caring when the fluff of her dressing gown became sticky with marmalade. His brow unwrinkled, but not for long. 

“Dora,” said Remus, placing his quill down mid-sentence through a report for the Order later that afternoon, “I know you’ve said that you never want to have children, but…you’re very young to make such a decision. In time, you may change your mind and…even if it were possible for me to sire a child - to tell you the truth, I have my doubts - even _considering_ it would be out of the question - ”

Tonks picked up Remus’ quill and dotted his nose with it. 

“Why do people find it so weird when a woman says she doesn’t want kids? You think I want a wailing little prune or a snotty child or a bratty teenager to look after? That’s not me.”

“How can you be so certain?” 

Tonks pushed the table back with a screech and plopped herself down on his lap. 

“When have I ever given you any reason to doubt my convictions?” 

“You never have,” he whispered back, his arms wrapping around her. 

Tonks pressed her lips to a handsome streak of grey hair on his forehead, wishing that a kiss had the power to kill particular thoughts dead. 

“The financial burden,” Remus said abruptly, jolting Tonks from the sleep she’d drifted into on his shoulder that evening. “You adore London, but even if I could afford to pay a share of the rent - which I cannot - the only way to ensure secrecy would be to own our own property which is of course unthinkable. Gringotts doesn’t lend money to werewolves, especially those with empty vaults.”

“Oh,” Tonks replied, with a jaw-cracking yawn, “yeah, you know I forgot about my life-long dream to live in a penthouse overlooking the King’s Road and hire Puddlemere United as my personal servants - ”

“You’re being deliberately - ”

“And have them sponge bath me in a tub of melted galleons - ” 

He couldn’t resist laughing eventually, his grey eyes brightening with every stupid joke. But, lying in bed - 

“If the Ministry were to find out - ”

This time Tonks resorted to covering his mouth with her hand. He tried to pull it away and they jostled in the sheets, their legs becoming entangled. Tonks’ fingers reached under his shirt to tickle him and Remus rolled her beneath him, kissing her neck and then there was the inevitable, sensational, tearing away of clothes. And somehow Tonks ended up on top of him again and Remus’ hands were on her hips, sliding to the backs of her thighs, pulling her closer until his mouth found her and Tonks’ eyes rolled back, her hands gripping the beams of the low pitched ceiling. The bed was a mess by the end: their roving, feverish bodies scattered the pillows, made the sheets rucked and damp beneath them. 

“See,” Tonks breathed, lying on her back, her legs looped around him and an orgasmic afterglow still tingling her toes, “you do want to be my husband.” 

He stroked her hair away from her face and the vulnerability in his smile made her heart ache. 

“Yes, I do,” he whispered.

Naked, cloistered together under the sheets, they drew up a plan: first, they would visit Remus’ father and collect the engagement ring, then they would go on to North London to Tonks’ parents before, finally, announcing their engagement to the Order at the next meeting. The wedding would take place at the end of the month, attended only by their nearest and dearest; before Bill and Fleur’s, but after Harry’s extraction from Privet Drive. 

But the plan was short-lived. The next day found Tonks with four of her fellow Aurors flying through a summer storm in pursuit of Dolohov, who they’d tracked all the way to the cliffs of Dorset. They were closing in just above Dancing Ledge when a host of Death Eaters, cloaked in concealment charms undetectable via the Aurors’ usual methods, ambushed them. A dog fight ensued and Tonks, locked in her own duel, could only watch as a killing curse struck Auror Duffie and his limp body cracked onto the rocks below. Outnumbered and outflanked, they were forced to abort the mission. Tonks and Finlay Savage, who was bleeding profusely from a small stump that had been his index finger, apparated Tamar - a Junior Auror who had been struck in the back - to St Mungo’s. But Dolohov’s curse spread too fast for any Healer to control. It froze the very organs inside him and it was Tonks who - hollow and fatigued from two crucios that had almost thrown her out of the sky - held the hand of Tamar’s mother as she cried in guttural wails for her lost son. When Tonks finally returned, Remus was pacing - white-faced and stricken. She fell into his arms. 

“What happened?” He demanded, holding her face in his hands. “Where have you been? I’ve been frantic, Dora. I thought…oh god, I thought - ” 

“Let’s get married tomorrow,” she interrupted him. “Let’s not wait.” 

The attic was packed up, Tonks melted down her old Concealment and Disguise trophy to create two wedding rings and they apparated even further North to the only place willing to hold a clandestine wedding at short notice - the Scally Wizzbee. 

“This is where we had our first date,” Tonks had said when they arrived on the island, grinning teasingly at Remus as sea spray pelted her face. 

“It was no such thing,” he replied, the wind whipping his cheeks as pink as the sunset behind him. “But it was a rather lovely afternoon, as I recall.” 

So here they were: just the two of them, getting ready for their wedding in the Scally Wizzbee’s smallest guest room, boxes piled atop their marriage bed and a sluggish clock counting down the seconds until they would be married. 

Tonks couldn’t take it any more. She tugged the curtain down and Remus whirled around, tucking something behind his back. He wore an old set of navy blue robes, all loose threads severed and sagging patches replaced, with a white shirt underneath. His hair was tidy and freshly cut. His eyebrows were raised in surprise, but his face gradually slackened, his eyes glazing dazedly as he looked at her. 

“You look beautiful,” he said and raised a hand to the flowers around her head, “aren’t these….?”

“Lupins,” she said, beaming up at him. 

“They suit you.”

She picked up a spare and fastened it to the front of his robes. 

“You too.” 

Remus didn’t speak for a few seconds, only brushed her cheek with his fingers. 

“I’m searching for the best way to express myself, but every word feels inadequate. Dora…you look - ”

“Oh, give over - I want to know what you’ve been hiding!” 

Tonks’ eyes flicked to the thing he was attempting to conceal behind his back. It was white. Remus hesitated.

“You don’t have to wear it,” he said. 

“ _Wear_ it? What is it?”

“It’s - it’s silly. Too traditional for you. I wanted to make you something as a wedding present and I’m afraid this is the best I could come up with.”

He drew it out and placed it into her hands. It was a veil. Pure white, but crawling with intricate silver stitches that shone in the light. Tonks murmured his name as she traced the patterns; the fabric cool as water beneath her fingertips. 

“They’re stars,” said Remus. “This one is Sirius, the Dog Star,” he pointed to a twinkling silver dot, connected by glowing threads to seven others, before gently pulling the veil to show a bright cluster near the crown, “and this is the Andromeda galaxy. Everything on the left represents the Black side of your family and the right…” the fabric flowed, gossamer soft, across Tonks’ palms as he moved it again, “these look like stars, but they’re actually crossroads and alleyways - a kind of map. East London. For the Tonks side of your family.” 

“I can’t believe you made this,” said Tonks, her voice catching. “It’s amazing. All my…all my family’s here…”

She couldn’t finish. She felt a pang. Her mother wasn’t here to raise her eyebrows at the length of her dress. Her dad wasn’t here to make a speech laden with jokes as stupid as her own. Remus’ eyes darted across her face, noticing every tiny change as he always did.

“It’s not too late,” he said in a low voice. “Say the word and we can cancel, we can postpone…”

“No!” She reached up and touched his face. “No. This is about us, no one else. I want to marry you tonight and not a second later. When the war’s over, we’ll have a cracking party and everyone will be invited but…until then…it’s just you and me. We’ve got to grab this chance. Alright, now - how do I put this on?” 

“Please don’t feel like you have to. It can just be a gift. It doesn’t match your dress.” 

“I can fix that.” 

She turned to the mirror and waved her wand. The checks disappeared and were replaced with the same clean, luminous white as the veil. 

“Will you put it on for me? It’ll go wonky if I try.” 

Remus nodded. Carefully, he lifted off her crown of flowers and positioned the veil over the neon waves of her hair, before restoring the blue lupins again and tucking the veil gently amongst them to hold it in place. Tonks swallowed. She hadn’t expected to see herself like this: a bride, all in white. Remus’ hands rested on her arms and she met his eyes in the mirror. They were sparkling. 

“Don’t get weepy on me, Moony,” she said, though her own throat was tight. 

He turned her round to face him. Tonks closed her eyes, feeling the moment spinning around her: the terrible year of their separation was over, they were on the cusp of becoming what they were supposed to be. Remus kissed her and she sighed against his lips, memories of war and pain and rejection fading from her brain as she pulled him close: her hands sliding over the body that she loved, yearning massing inside her like thunderclouds, her lips finding his jawbone, neck, collar…

“Not yet…” Remus’ voice was breathy, “after the ceremony…”

But his words belied the way he lifted her chin and kissed her with an ardency that made her lips tingle and desire sear through her. 

“Screw tradition…”

Her hands roved through the folds of his robes, finding the place where his shirt so neatly tucked into his trousers. Remus drew in a sharp intake of breath as her fingertips brushed the skin of his stomach.

“We can’t be late to our own wedding,” he said, catching her roaming hands with laughter in his eyes. 

Tonks stepped back from him with a wink, smoothing down her dress as he re-adjusted his clothes. Then there was the clang of a bell and she froze, looking up at Remus with wide eyes. 

“It’s time.” 

The pub, normally carved up into warren-like private rooms, had become one large space. Half a dozen guests - seemingly the Scally Wizzbee’s most ancient and well-soused regulars - turned to stare curiously at Remus and Tonks. Rickety wood-wormed chairs lined a makeshift aisle and the only decorations were candles, hundreds of them, dripping globules of yellow wax as they bobbed in the muggy air. The room smelt of old seashells, ale, smoke and whatever it was that made the floor so very sticky. Tonks heard the cry of a fiddle, the patter of a small drum and the high, clear pipe of a flute and looked round to see three musicians in a corner. It took her a second to realize what it was they were playing, but when she did she looked at Remus in delight: _How The Light Gets In_ by the Weird Sisters, her favourite song. His shy smile, warm with pride, confirmed her happy suspicion that he had arranged it somehow. 

“It’s all bloody perfect,” she whispered to him, winding her arm through his. 

They walked down the aisle together, Remus propping Tonks up when the toe of her boot struck an uneven flagstone on their way to where the Scally Wizzbee’s barman stood, ensconced in an eye-wateringly bright cluster of candles, waiting for them. The music fell silent as they reached him. 

_I’m about to marry Remus Lupin. How the hell did I get here?_

Tonks remembered them as they had once been. She remembered lying on Sirius’ bedroom floor, her hands on her stomach as it rippled with laughter, seeing a figure pass by in the corridor, “Moony, come and join us!” Sirius had said. She remembered sitting cross-legged in the kitchen, watching her old-souled new friend through the rising steam of the cup of tea he’d just made her and wondering why her heart was beating so fast. She remembered the lights of Fred and George’s indoor fireworks reflecting in his eyes on New Year’s Eve as she inwardly plotted how to get him alone. 

He looked younger now: awestruck and more than a little nervous as he stood before her on their wedding day. And Tonks knew, with all the certainty her bold heart contained, that this was the greatest gift she could ever give him: the incontrovertible proof of her love, the end to all his doubt, the severing of every knot of worry inside his brain. 

“Love can take us like a hurricane,” the barman announced in whisky-scratched tones, “it can lift us off our feet and into the sky, it can make us mad, make us lose our heads.”

His words, combined with Tonks’ exhilaration, produced in her a sudden, lung-constricting urge to laugh. She gripped Remus’ hand all the tighter. His expression was grave. 

“But love does not render us entirely helpless. We always have the power to choose. And these two individuals have chosen today, the sixth of July, to be joined for life. These two members of our magical community will now pledge lifelong faith, kindness, loyalty to each other and each other alone. Speak the name of your beloved.” 

“Remus John Lupin,” said Tonks.

“Nymphadora Tonks,” said Remus.

His eyes flickered faintly with amused challenge. Tonks wrinkled her nose at him, but nothing could knock her smile. 

“Your vows are now to be repeated after me in unison.” 

Tonks had to forcibly slow the usually rapid tempo of her voice to keep time with Remus.

“Truthfulness, faithfulness and love until death.

We bind ourselves with wand and word,

to share all that we have,

to cherish and respect one another, 

to love without cease through every joy and trial of our lives.”

A mournful cry pierced the room and descended into a melody of surging beauty: the fiddle player had begun to play. 

“Bring out the rings.” 

Remus took the two, only a little misshapen, gold bands out of his pocket. Tonks bit her lip as he took her left hand in his and slowly pushed the smaller ring into place on her fourth finger. Silently urging herself not to drop it, hardly able to tear her gaze away from his face, Tonks did the same for him. Poised on the brink, neither of them breathed until the words were spoken -

“I now pronounce you joined for life.” 

Golden light exploded from the barman’s wand, irradiating their faces and circling their joined hands in a brilliant ring that cascaded to the floor like a waterfall. Remus blinked and his hands twitched ever so slightly, as if just he’d received a jolt of electricity. Tonks felt the tension in her body release and she let out a pure, pleasurable laugh. 

“This is the kissing bit!” Called a gravelly voice from the back of the room. 

Remus blushed. Tonks threaded her hands around his neck and drew him to her. Soft, slow and chaste, the kiss made Tonks feel light-headed.

“What do we do now?” She whispered over the sound of scattered applause. 

Remus looked as dumbfounded as she felt and an immense wave of love broke over Tonks as she looked at him: her safety, her choice, her husband. 

“We walk,” he said. “One step at a time.” 

And so they did: back down the aisle, this time with rings on their fingers and, as if a kaleidoscope had exploded over their heads, charmed confetti fluttering down all around them. 

“I almost forgot!” Tonks cried, flinging an arm across Remus to stop him short. 

Pulling her wand out of her dress, she summoned her camera. It came hurtling down the stairs, straight into the hands of a toothless old witch with a mane of orange frizz, who began rapidly clicking the shutter. Tonks attempted to arrange her face into something normal but kept breaking into giggles. Remus was too busy smiling at Tonks to remember to look at the camera. Tonks gathered up the pictures and rescued the camera with a “cheers”, as a bottle of something was pressed into Remus’ hands. They kept walking, receiving congratulations and slaps on the back under ever-increasing showers of glittering confetti, which bounced at their feet and hung on their eyelashes, until Remus pushed open the front door of the pub and they emerged out into the wild sea air. 

Tonks took in great gulps of the night, her veil billowing behind her, as they stumbled and clambered over the rocks away from the pub. They spoke over each other in half sentences, high on what they had just done, catching each other in clumsy kisses every few minutes. Eventually they reached a long strip of sand, a tidal beach a hundred metres behind the pub, and collapsed down beside each other - breathing hard, but not from the walk. The moon was behind them, the sea in front. 

“Would you mind if I took off my shoes?” Remus asked her. 

Tonks threw her head back as she laughed out her reply, “Why would I mind that?!”

Remus smiled, shaking his head at himself, and carefully removed his shoes and socks.

“It’s been a very long time since I felt sand beneath my feet.” 

Tonks tugged at her laces, kicked each boot off at a wild angle and peeled off her holed Hufflepuff socks. She wiggled her bare toes in the cool sand. 

“Feels new,” she said. “Like the first time.” 

He turned his head to look at her. 

“I love you.” 

She leant forward and kissed him on the cheekbone. 

“And I love you. _Husband_.” 

“Husband,” he repeated quietly, looking down at the new ring on his finger and giving it a slow twist. “I’m dreaming.”

Tonks flicked the straps of her dress off her shoulders then, with some difficulty, pushed it down over her body until it slipped off her feet. Her veil stroked against the bare skin of her back and legs as she stood up.

“What…” Remus’ mouth opened as she unclasped her bra and dropped it to the sand, “…are you doing?”

Tonks flicked her pants off a toe, chucking them at Remus who caught them automatically, his eyes perfectly round. But he didn’t have long to stare because Tonks started running: naked but for her flowers and the veil streaming out behind her; one hand gripping her wand, the other supporting the wobble at her chest. Remus scrambled to his feet and followed, trying to catch her, but she pushed him away, laughing. Soon her feet were skipping over shallow water, then she was wading in icy waves up to her knees and she stretched out her arms to plunge in. The water pushed all air from her lungs and made her gasp, but she swam on; feeling the freedom of her body, smooth and graceful in the water. She floated onto her back, let a charm bubble her body in warmth and stared weightlessly up at the stars above. Remus stood on the sand watching her, the sea lapping at his ankles. 

“I dare you!” She shouted, spitting out salt water. “Come on!” 

She saw him shake his head. She saw him glance up the deserted beach towards the distant lights of the pub, and then…she saw him start to unbutton. Tonks splashed, victorious, towards him and dragged his skinny, goose-bumped body into the sea with her, dunking his head below the waves.

“Trying to murder me on our wedding night?” He spluttered, smoothing his sopping hair out of his eyes as their legs knocked together amongst the bubbles. 

Tonks kissed him, opening his mouth with hers so their tongues came together; bringing him into her warming charm; locking her legs around his waist. Her fingers twisted in his hair and his hands stroked from her waist to the curves of her hips, pressing her tight against him. Her veil floated on the water all around them, its constellations shining beneath the stars, rippling as they moved. 

Tonks had thought they’d plumbed every depth of lust, reached every height of desire already but she felt a new level of want now as Remus kissed down her neck, slick with salt water, and reached her hard nipples; sending swirls of sensation pinging all the way down to her toes. She tipped her head back, giving herself to the pleasure and strange ache of it. When the new, tender pain became too much she tugged him back by the hair. His eyes were dark and intense with desire as he looked back at her.

“I want to lay you down,” he said. 

By the time they staggered back onto the beach, their teeth were chattering and the wind thrashed their wet skin. Remus conjured huge towels that glowed with heat and wrapped them both up, rubbing Tonks dry. They huddled close and Remus straightened her drooping flowers, his thumb travelling down her cheek to rest at the corner of her lip. Her breathing was laboured, she could feel the stiff pressure of him between them. She took two steps back and sank down to the ground, pulling him with her, spreading the hot towels out on the sand. 

Remus laid her down under the open sky, her wedding veil beneath her. As he parted her thighs, she felt the friction of tiny grains of sand against her skin. She held his head between her hands as he eased himself inside her, moaning as the slow, rhythmic movement began. They kissed, their breath erratic and intermingling, and Tonks felt peaceful and electrified, desperate and calm, all at once. 

When it was over, Remus looked as if he could die right then and there. He stared straight up, breathing hard, his face lined in a frown and hugging her so close it made her arms tingle with pins and needles. After several silent minutes, Tonks wriggled loose and propped herself up on her elbow to stroke his hair, which was thick with sand. 

“That’s it,” she said. “That’s every primal matrimonial ritual ticked off the list.” 

“I can think of one more actually.” 

Remus sat up with a wince he didn’t quite succeed in concealing. He picked up his wand and made a hole in the sand, filling it with flames. Tonks held out her palms, feeling the heat prick her cold skin. Donning his shirt and trousers once more, Remus found Tonks’ white dress coiled in the sand and passed it to her before raising his wand towards the pub. 

“What are you doing?” 

Tonks craned her neck. A black shape meandered slowly towards them, tiny at first but becoming clearer: it was their record player, wrapped in protection charms. Remus stood up to catch it and brought it safely down onto the sand. Tonks’ eyes were already brimming by the time the music started up. 

“A first dance,” said Remus, holding out his hand to her. 

“I’m crap at proper dancing,” she said, blinking rapidly as he pulled her to her feet. 

“So am I.” 

But he wasn’t. With bare feet, he led her in slow circles across the sand and, as they danced, Tonks realized it truly was their first. He held her steady, smiling broadly even when she knocked over the bottle with an errant heel. When he span her faster, she felt light despite her damp and sand-laden dress, able to fly in the arms of her husband who loved her; with whom she could face anything. She was so happy that when she caught sight of the watching moon above them, she thought only of how beautiful it was.


	2. Threshold

**Chapter 2: Threshold**

The cottage was still standing, but that was about all that could be said in its favour. Slumped on the moorland, a few shingles short of a decent roof, it stared back at Remus through the eye of its only window. Errant weeds protruded from the crevices between the grey stone. The paint on the door was curling. There was only so much magic could do to hold back its steady disintegration, especially when nature itself decided to reclaim it. Looking at the old place with Tonks by his side was like seeing it anew. Their wedding night had been a living dream and now, just like a dream, it was fading from him. He could no longer taste salt on his tongue, feel his muscles clench as he held Tonks close in the surging sea, hear the notes of the music that expressed more of his love than words ever could. Now there was lichen, creeping moss, the promise of drizzle in the air as Tonks, his wife, looked upon the only home he could give her. She let the boxes she’d been holding thud onto the grass.

“Wow!”

Remus glanced at her quickly, but she was in earnest. She turned on the spot, blinking around at the landscape; at the rolling greenery of the empty moors, blanketed in summer heather and stretching out to meet the sky. She bent down and unclipped Mildred’s cage, shielding her eyes to watch the owl soar as high as the clouds within seconds. Setting off at a bouncing run, Tonks headed for the cottage, her scarlet quiff changing to purple as she went. Remus followed her at a walk. 

“It’s a world away from London,” he called after her, hearing the note of apology in his own voice. 

Tonks whirled around to face him. 

“Yeah, there’s not a soul for miles,” she said, walking backwards, “how flipping romantic is that?” 

“If by romantic, you mean desolate, then yes."

Tonks cocked her head to one side, teasingly, an ankle wobbling on the uneven ground. 

“Maybe I find desolation romantic.”

“Well, that would explain why you married me.”

“There were other reasons too…” 

She stopped walking and tugged the front of his robes to bring him close. Remus closed his eyes, needing to lose himself in kissing her, to feel only her lips against his and the breeze that ruffled their clothes. Tonks broke the kiss too soon, far too soon. 

"Are you going to show me inside, or what?" 

She seized his hand and half-pulled him towards the door. Remus drew his wand and removed the security charms, but paused with his hand raised towards the handle. The cottage was a revenant. His years of penniless, ugly solitude dwelt within its walls and it seemed impossible for Tonks to cross its threshold. When he left for Hogwarts on the evening of Dumbledore’s death, he never - not even in his wildest, most irresponsible fantasies - could have imagined that she would be beside him when he returned. He wished he’d gone ahead to prepare it, but he knew she would never have let him, insisting she didn’t care and so he shouldn’t either. 

“It’s shabby, I - ”, he sighed, “I…should warn you…”

“Stop it. We’ve been through this. This is the best place for us!” 

“We aren’t exactly spoilt for choice.”

“I could live with you at the bottom of a well, ankle-deep in frogspawn, and still be pleased as punch about it. Anyway, you of all people should know I find a little bit of shabbiness sexy."

Tonks gave him a look - her lips curving, her eyes locking on his, her finger stroking the inside of his wrist - and Remus felt the blood draining from his brain and travelling inexorably downwards. The dream felt real again and it gave him courage enough to open the door. But before he could enter - 

“Hold on. Where do you think you’re going?” 

The quizzical look he gave in reply quickly turned to open-mouthed surprise as she ducked to the ground and attempted to scoop his legs up in her arms.

“Tonks...Dora...no!" 

He wobbled on one leg, an unstoppable burst of laughter shaking his chest. 

“I’m too heavy for you!”

“Don’t underestimate me!”

“Nymphadora…Lupin…Tonks,” he said, managing to extricate his foot. “We’re going to do this properly.” 

Ignoring the grumble in his joints, he bent his knees and slid his arms under her legs, lifting her up. Giggling too much to even pull his hair in revenge, Tonks locked her arms around his neck as he carried her through the doorway and into the cottage. When he set her down and her eyes travelled over the four corners of the single room that was now her new home, her smile changed.

“Reminds me of your old room in Grimmauld,” she said, squeezing his hand, bright-eyed. “Feels like home already.”

Remus said nothing. Everything was as dreary as it always had been. There was the same squashed, fraying sofa, the same sagging single bed, the same kitchen table for one. The only thing that was different was the dead blackbird lying in the fireplace, its tiny wings outspread and its faded yellow beak gaping. 

But with every minute Tonks spent below his roof; every box they unpacked together; every explosion of cushions, photographs, clothes, records, something began to happen. The place became steadily unrecognisable: a patchwork quilt was spread onto the newly widened bed, a bass guitar stood propped against the empty grindylow cage, electric blue lace peeked out from drawers that would no longer shut. Her colours overflowed from every corner. 

“You’re right," said Remus, once they'd stuck the last of their wedding photos up in a collage on the wall. 

“I know I am. About what?” 

“It does feel like home.” 

—————

“So…something happened last night.”

Molly’s hands struck her cheeks, Bill snorted out the sip of beer he’d just taken and Fleur’s hair slapped Mundungus in the face as she span around to stare at Tonks’ outstretched left hand. 

“You’re engaged?” 

“Married,” said Remus, his heart thumping. 

The din in the small dining room was so immense that some of Mad Eye’s defence instruments began to twirl, emitting loud trumpet-like sounds. Dedalus Diggle sprang to his feet so fast that his chair toppled over. 

“Blimey, that was quick!” Said Bill, clapping Remus on the back. 

“Faster than Bill and me! La vache!” Cried Fleur, seizing Tonks in a tight hug. 

“Congratulations,” said Arthur warmly, shaking Remus’ hand between both of his. 

The room - grim as a war council when they arrived - became merry as Tonks perched on the edge of the table and began telling them the story. Remus’ cheeks burned and he couldn’t hold back a grin as he watched her speak: the way she beamed as she described the veil, the way she mimed every instrument in the little folk band, the way her wand shot out confetti as she told them of their walk down the aisle. He felt a slight flicker of concern when the story progressed onto the beach, but just as he started to wonder exactly how detailed Tonks’ account of their wedding night was going to be, Mad Eye swallowed a theatrical gulp from his hip flask and interrupted. 

“You’re damned lucky both of you."

“Cheers, Mad Eye,” said Tonks. 

“I mean, you’re damned lucky to have survived it!” 

The Order glanced warily from Tonks to Mad Eye, except Mundungus who only slumped further back in his chair and drew his pipe from his pocket; his eyes small and resentful from where they peaked out from his pouchy face. 

“The Order’s bending over backwards so that these two,” Mad Eye gestured in the direction of Bill and Fleur, “can have their little party without it ending in a massacre and the two of you offer yourselves up in your gladrags to the Death Eaters, nothing but the wands in your pockets, only the Scally Wizzbee's half-cut finest as back-up.”

“Ye of little faith,” said Tonks, her eyes steady but twinkling ever so slightly. “Personally, I wouldn’t fancy Bellatrix’s chances against Crusty Dave the fiddle player. And I hear Barmy Jackie can cast a mean octopus head jinx.” 

Kingsley raised an eyebrow. Fleur did her best to hide a smirk behind her silvery hair.

"We did our best to make it safe, Alastor,” said Remus, Mad Eye’s magical eye gutting him with its gaze. “No one knew of our identities until we gave our names during the ceremony itself.” 

“We’ve got to be able to do a bit of living or we’ll go insane,” said Tonks, soberly this time. 

She slipped off the table and clapped a hand on Mad Eye’s shoulder. “No one wishes you’d been there more than I do, believe me. But listen, once this war’s done and dusted, we’ll have a proper wedding reception,” she grinned at him, “and on that day you’ll be free to explode the cake in search of miniature hiding Death Eaters, incinerate the gifts and frisk every guest to your heart’s delight. I promise.” 

Remus had never known anyone who could get Mad Eye Moody to smile in the precise way that Tonks could. Not the grim smile of satisfaction at a mission gone well or the jerk of his lips after telling a particularly gruesome story, but a smile that lifted his war-beaten face in genuine, if begrudging, affection. 

"Mad as a box of frogs,” he said. “I’ve always said it. And I’m the madder for taking you on.” 

“Well,” said Remus, when the tension in the room, though not quite in the pit of his stomach, had subsided. “I daresay our nuptials are not the reason for this meeting being called early. Kingsley?” 

Kingsley nodded and, smoothing the front of his crisp muggle suit, took a seat. The rest of the Order followed his example. 

“I wish I brought news as cheering as yours, but I’m afraid our prospects are looking grim at the Ministry. We’ve had our suspicions for a while of course, but I believe I have evidence that the Death Eaters have infiltrated the very highest echelon of power.” 

“Not the Minister himself?” Asked Arthur, looking disturbed. 

“Not Scrimgeour, no,” replied Kingsley.

“He doesn’t leave his bloody office long enough to get Imperiused,” said Tonks. 

“I suspect someone in his inner circle, but I cannot be sure who. You may have heard that the muggle Health Minister was found dead in her office yesterday? Fact is, she was drowned. When we found her, her head was incased in a glass jar filled with water. It was unbreakable except by magic. The security spells on Downing Street admit only senior members of the Ministry with top-level clearance.” 

“A puppet at the very highest rung of government,” said Remus. “They never quite achieved that last time.”

“It gives them access to magical law-making. More reason, if we needed it, not to divulge any of our Potter plans to anyone at the Ministry,” said Kingsley. 

Mad Eye nodded. “It’s looking likelier that we’ll need to use our back-up plan to extract the boy. Broomsticks. But don’t get cocky just because we pulled it off two years ago. A disillusionment charm won’t save him this time. So get thinking, all of you.” 

“I can lay a false trail amongst the Aurors,” said Tonks, leaning forward in her chair, “Dawlish can’t keep a secret, if I feed him the wrong date it will get back to the Death Eaters for sure.”

“Good idea,” said Kingsley. “Oh, and Tonks - you’re needed at the Ministry tomorrow, likely for several hours. The muggle Prime Minister has decided it’s a good idea to go ahead with the garden party so I’ve got you a place at the Senior Aurors’ meeting in my stead.” 

“I’ll be there,” she said. 

Remus felt relief, sweet and treacherous, spreading through him. They would have to cancel their visit to Tonks’ parents, which meant he wouldn’t have to witness their unfiltered reaction as Tonks announced that she, their only daughter, was married to the impoverished werewolf in his late thirties standing in their living room. Not yet, anyway. Tonks’ fingers found his under the table. Remus knew she must be disappointed. After Dedalus and Hestia outlined their plans for the protection of Harry’s aunt and uncle, it was Molly who spoke next. 

“There's something we need to discuss. Does anyone here have the faintest idea what sort of… _task_ Dumbledore supposedly left for Harry? Ron and Hermione are refusing to give away even a scrap of information and with all this talk about the ‘Chosen One’, I’m worried they’re going to try and do something extremely stupid in the ridiculous belief that Dumbledore wanted them to do it all themselves….whatever ‘it’ is! I'd like us, the Order, to step in."

“Dumbledore wouldn't have entrusted the boy with any task he didn’t think he was capable of completing,” said Mad Eye. 

Molly's face took on a rosy hue of anger Remus recognised from her face-offs with Sirius.

“I feel confident that Harry, Ron and Hermione will share information with us when the time is right," said Remus. "Until then, all we can do is offer them our help - even if that help is from a distance."

“But this is ridiculous! They’re children. They should be concentrating on their final year at school. Dumbledore must have been planning to confide his plan to the Order and having us take over. Nothing else makes sense! Harry is too young, too inexperienced…”

“I believe in ‘Arry,” said Fleur. 

“Dumbledore told us to trust in him,” said Kingsley. “Called him the best hope we have.” 

Molly gripped Arthur’s wrist atop the table as she spoke - 

“If it was your own child, you’d feel differently,” she looked around at them, beseeching and accusing in equal measure, “all of you. It’s not right. Ron, Harry and Hermione simply aren’t ready to be part of this war.” 

“They’re already part of it, Mum,” said Bill. “They’ve been part of it for years.” 

“The prophecy about Harry Potter and he-who-must-not-be-named cannot be denied,” said Dedalus. 

“Remus,” Molly appealed directly to him, “Lily and James Potter wouldn’t want us to let Harry risk his life, nor would Sirius. I’m sure of it.” 

Molly’s eyes blazed. Usually blurred by memory, the faces of Lily, James and Sirius came to Remus vividly, as if they’d turned to look at him, asking him what he was going to do. _Trust Dumbledore_ , Remus’ automatic instinct responded - but could Dumbledore truly have wished for Harry to carry such a burden alone, to surrender himself to the fate his epithets - the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One - bound him? It wasn’t Remus’ place to make decisions for Harry, it never had been. An unfit professor and an inferior mentor, he had always rightfully stepped aside. But words failed him as he stared back at Molly. The more he tried to search for them, the wider their absence became, swelling like a hole in his chest. 

“Like Remus said, there are ways we can help Harry without forcing him to tell us everything,” said Tonks. “It's us who's got to fight the Death Eaters, keep the Ministry from crumbling and get as many new recruits for our side as we can. If we do all that, Harry will be safer when he….um...does his thing."

The argument rolled on until midnight. Remus’ head was pounding by the time they returned to the cottage and even Tonks looked tired. She flopped onto the bed and there was a faint clunk as one of the slats surrendered itself to the floor. 

“I’ll write to Mum and Dad, tell them we won’t be able to make it tomorrow,” she said, rubbing her eyes, “I dunno what replacement date to suggest though. I’m either at the Ministry or on missions every bleeding day.”

Remus dipped a quill in ink and found some parchment for her. Tonks hovered the page over her face and started to scribble, dripping tiny specks of ink onto the sheets.

“What about next week?” 

“I’d rather not see them so close to the full moon.” 

Tonks sucked on the feather. 

“It feels a bit crap that the whole Order knows we got hitched but Mum and Dad still don’t.”

“You could visit them next week without me, I won’t mind. Or you could break the news in a letter.”

“No!” Tonks lifted her head off the bed to look at him. “We’ve got to tell them in person, together. Alright, it’ll have to be after the full moon then. The day after we’ve seen your dad.” 

Tonks finished the letter then clicked her tongue for Mildred. The owl flew across the room and nipped Tonks’ fingers as she took the letter. 

“You’ll be wearing an engagement ring by then,” said Remus, as Tonks stripped and changed into an enormous yellow t-shirt. “I’ll never be a worthy son-in-law, but that’s something at least.”

Tonks crawled under the duvet and peeled it back for him. 

“I’m too knackered for your self-deprecation. Get in here.” 

Remus put out the lights and joined her. The dim outline of the ceiling rafters looked just as they always had but…Remus rolled close to Tonks and rested his face at the nape of her neck, breathing in her smell…it was a new world. Despite the darkness, he knew she was smiling. The privilege of it overwhelmed him and he held on to her all the tighter; love obliterating every other thought in his brain, flooding the emptiness in his chest. She turned in his arms and kissed his face until she found his lips, her eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. He sighed, long and yearning, as her body arched beneath him and her thighs claimed him. He became so lost in her that when he heard his own name gasped from her lips, he could almost convince himself it belonged to someone worthy.

———

The days that followed were blighted by separation. Tonks spent ever longer stints at the Ministry and on stake-outs with the Aurors, whilst Remus travelled the length of the country intercepting and curse-breaking the letters of suspected Death Eaters. When they weren’t eating or sleeping - or occasionally both (Tonks had developed a habit of nodding off at the table after scraping her plate clean) - they were making the ancient bed even saggier than before, drinking in every second together they could claim. 

But the moon waxed, growing fatter in the sky and bringing bone-deep fatigue and a twinge if Tonks squeezed him too hard. Soon she was finishing his dinner for him and he was staring without seeing, dread dripping through his stomach. She began planning for the full moon like it was something to look forward to: rolling up her sleeves and lining up potion ingredients with the intention of reproducing Madam Pomfrey’s self-designed ointment, laying out bandages and practising her healing charms. James and Sirius would be proud of her optimism but as the night drew nearer, Remus found it harder and harder to bear. He wanted only to love Tonks as the man he wished he was, to stop his body degrading as the wolf readied to take it over, to hide the shadows that deepened under his eyes. 

_Every blade of grass shone. The night air was intoxicating, rich with scent. He felt the power in his body as he ran. The sky rolled above and below him, the moon swallowed him in blazing silver and he saw eyes. Yellow eyes, the blank and merciless eyes of a predator, eyes with pupils that were endless. Blood swelled in his mouth, flooding his taste buds, splashing the roof of his mouth. Pleasure surged within him but still all he could see were those eyes, a mirror image, his true face -_

He woke to the sound of his own dry sobs. He sat up, frantic, pulling the sheets off his body as if they were the skin of the wolf itself. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay…” 

It was Tonks. His Tonks. She was holding him as he shook, the wedding ring on her finger cold against his skin. 

“Just a nightmare…It’s okay now, it’s okay…You’re here with me…”

He clung to her and she lay him down again in her arms. He let her kiss the cold sweat on his forehead, stroke his hair, whisper to him; disgusted at himself all the while for how much he needed her, how he pressed his face to her chest even as his teeth chattered and ghostly blood still trickled down his throat. 

When the day of the full moon came, Remus didn’t wake until the afternoon. When he did, he saw that the back door was open. He dragged himself out of bed and shuffled over to lean against the frame. Tonks was outside, looking at the grey windowless hut that stood behind the cottage. The very sight of it caused him pain, a thousand tiny screws tightening in his ligaments, his body anticipating what was to come. Tonks placed a hand on the door and Remus flinched. She pushed it open, curious, poking her head inside. 

_Stop. Get away from there._

He wanted to be her husband. He didn’t want to be the thing that suffered in that pitch dark room. If she came to him at dawn, it wouldn’t be her lover she would find but something writhing, naked and disorientated, bleeding from wounds torn in hate. Tonks emerged from the hut and jumped a little when she saw him.

"Hey,” she came towards him with a rallying smile, “how are you feeling?” 

“Even worse than I look.” 

“Now you’re just fishing for compliments,” she went up on her toes and kissed him, “everything’s ready. It’s gonna be your best morning after yet, I promise.” 

Remus hesitated. Tonks dropped back onto her heels.

“What?” 

“At Dumbledore’s funeral, Bill and Fleur invited you to spend the night of the full moon with them, didn’t they? Perhaps you should take them up on the offer.” 

“And leave you here alone?” 

“We wouldn’t exactly be spending quality time together, with you in the house by yourself and me…” his eyes drifted to the building behind her, but he wrenched them back, “what I’m trying to say is that it’s so rare for you to get a proper night off and it would be a shame to waste it. You’ll have a lovely time with Bill and Fleur in their new home. You could stay the night.” 

“There’s not much point sleeping round. You need me here at the crack of dawn.” 

“I…I’ve been thinking actually that it would be best if you didn’t see me until later in the morning.” 

“Remus - !”

"I don’t want you to go to any trouble. I can manage by myself, I've done so for most of my adult life."

“We’re married,” said Tonks, as incredulous as if he’d forgotten the fact. 

“Yes…” Remus began without knowing how to finish. 

“We got _married_. How much more proof do you need that I accept you for who you are?” 

“I - I know that. Of course I do. The point is, it’s not a pretty sight and I would prefer - ”

“But I want to help you! I want to be there for you! Marriage means taking care of each other.”

“It’s not easy for me to explain, but I really feel - ”

“How can you still be trying to push me away after everything we’ve been through?” Tonks demanded, her voice sharpening. “You’re putting yourself in more danger for no good reason, as per fucking usual.”

Remus closed his eyes so he didn’t have to see the accusation in her glare, but her words still cut through him; making his flesh quake all the more.

“You need to trust me like you trusted Sirius - I’m not going to judge you or do a runner just because of a bit of blood. I love you, _all_ of you. You know how much I want to help, you just have to let me!”

“You can’t force this, Dora. Please don’t try.” 

She looked at the ground, her lower lip between her teeth.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She ran her hands over her face and through her hair. 

“No….it’s okay," she said at last, taking a deep breath, “it wasn’t fair of me to go off on you like that. I know I’ll never fully understand how horrible it is for you. You just need a bit more time, that’s all. Luckily for us, I’ve got patience in buckets.” 

This time it was Remus who dropped his eyes.

“Yes…that’s certainly true.”

Tonks winced. “Bollocks, that came out wrong. I didn’t mean it to sound like a dig.” 

She joined him in the doorway and hugged him. Remus rested his chin on her head. 

“Maybe I’ll become an animagus one day. Keep you company in there. I know I’d need to take the form of an elephant or a rhino or a hippo or something, but I wouldn’t put it past me - Merlin knows I’ve got the grace. And the tact.”

Remus kissed her hair, thankful that she couldn’t see the expression on his face. She could joke all she wanted, but he would never permit her to witness what she had really married. She left an hour before sunset, pausing on the apparition boundary and looking back at him. It was a final chance to change his mind and, in all the weakness and terror of his final sixty minutes, Remus longed to call her back. But he didn’t.

It wasn’t until he was pacing through the penetrating darkness, seconds before the change, that he realized he was still wearing his wedding ring. He fumbled to remove it, his cold fingers spasming in cramps, and he heard the metallic ting as it struck the stone floor somewhere out of his sight. 


	3. Like Father

**Chapter 3: Like Father**

Sleep clung fast to Tonks. It was so tempting to let herself be re-engulfed, to let the warm nothingness suck her down, but she blinked her puffy eyelids open a crack. The world was too bright and she groaned, rubbing her face against the pillow, the knots in her hair catching and making her scalp prickle. She reached out a hand and found soft folds of fabric covering a familiar thin chest. Her fingers walked, roaming over an elbow and the ribbed texture of a bandage, upwards to the soft inlet of a neck and higher so the tips of her fingers met faint bristles, higher still -

“That would be my eye,” the words sounded as though they had scraped their way out of Remus’ throat.

“Mornin‘”

She raised her arm and groped for the curtain, pulling it aside. The yellow July sun fell across the peaks and troughs of the bed sheets. They lay still, only looking at each other.

“You’re very beautiful this morning,” said Remus, brushing orange strings of hair from her cheek.

“I just poked you in the eye, you’re not the most reliable witness.”

She grinned and he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her neck as she burrowed in, their legs plaiting together. She felt his deep breathing, his heartbeat against her breast, every delicate movement of his sore body; wishing something as simple as an embrace could cure the ache in his flesh, could share the vigour of her body with his. Only a day had passed since Tonks returned from Bill and Fleur’s, scarcely an hour after dawn, to find Remus fully dressed and unconscious at the kitchen table.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, studying his face.

“Fine…” Remus paused, “rather better than expected, in fact.”

“That’s brilliant! Must be the soothing influence of your wife.”

He smiled. “You really do look very beautiful this morning…”

Tonks raised an eyebrow.

“I thought it was too soon…”

Remus’ palm stroked her thigh, inching beneath her oversized t-shirt to reach the sensitive skin of her waist.

“So did I,” he whispered.

Her hand delved and found him: rigid and insistent. He tilted his head back at her touch, suppressing a moan.

“I’m game if you are,” she said.

She sat up and stripped off her t-shirt, throwing it across the room and letting the sunlight bathe her bare skin as she climbed on top of him. Slowly, steadily, with the open moorland stretching out beside them and a look of desperate wonder on his face, Tonks made him come; relishing the work, feeling the strength of her body and how he worshipped it, imagining the pain of the full moon leaving him with every sliding squeeze. When she lay back down, panting and triumphant, he made it clear - his fingers moving deftly, alive to every quirk and curl of her - that he wasn’t content for his pleasure to have the last word. And when, in the final moments of her shaking orgasm, a bandage slipped from his shoulder and she breathlessly kissed the angry new marks there, he didn't flinch.

Ten minutes later, they were sitting propped up against the pillows: Remus drinking tea spiked with pain relief potion, Tonks the strongest coffee she could brew.

“Big day today,” she said, bumping his mug with hers. “Oh come on,” she added, watching the almost imperceptible falling of his face, “it’s gonna be great. I’m excited to meet Papa Lupin and drop the bomb that he’s got himself a daughter-in-law.”

Remus shifted slightly, adjusting the sheets that covered his torso.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell you last night, you came in so late…”

“What?”

“I wrote to him whilst you were on your shift.”

Tonks slammed her mug on the windowsill, coffee dribbling down its sides.

“I thought we were going to tell him in person, same as for my parents tomorrow!”

“I don’t think my father quite shares your enthusiasm for surprises. I thought if I put it in a letter, it might lessen the shock somewhat.”

“The news is that you got married, not that you ran away with the muggle circus!”

“The latter would probably come as less of a surprise.”

Tonks glared at him, refusing to laugh.

“I should have spoken to you first,” said Remus, squeezing her hand, the crinkle between his brows a little deeper than usual, “but it was the right decision to set it out in writing. My father is going through a difficult enough time as it is. He’s never gone into full hiding before.”

“Getting hitched is generally regarded as a cause for celebration, you know.”

Tonks looked out of the window. She felt tired again.

“I’m sorry.”

_Swap those buckets of patience for cauldrons, Tonks. You can do it._

“It’s okay,” she said, squeezing his hand back, “you know him better than I do. Not everyone likes being caught off-guard.”

Remus pressed his lips to her shoulder.

“I didn’t want to include your name in the letter, it felt needlessly reckless. How would you like me to introduce you?”

“What d’you mean?”

“Dora is too intimate perhaps, but then it seems a little strange to introduce you to my father by your last name…”

Remus’ tea overflowed onto the sheets as Tonks whipped round to look at him.

“Don’t you dare, don’t even _consider_ …Who the hell wants a daughter-in-law called Nymphadora?!”

Remus’ lip twitched as he fought not to smile.

“I suppose it might sour his first impression of our marriage if you were to transfigure me into a hedgehog on the doorstep.”

“You’ve been getting far too comfortable, Remus Lupin. Ever since our wedding. I knew I should never have let you get away with saying it then.”

“The marriage wouldn’t have been valid if I hadn’t said Nym - ”

Tonks shut him up with a kiss.

———-

She wore her hair in glossy waves of lupin blue. She wasn’t nervous. Before following Remus out of the cottage, she brushed her fingers over the needle of the old record player.

They apparated to a blustery village outside Llandudno where white-washed old fisherman’s cottages huddled together in narrow terraced streets. Lyall Lupin’s house sat on the edge of the village though, a square-shaped 1970s pebbledash, wholly unremarkable and unwizarding if not for its front garden in which a row of sunflowers swayed, as tall as the roof, behind a patch of wildflowers barely kept in check by a wooden fence, and the path leading to the front door was lined with emerald ferns. Once the customary security questions had been traded (the location of the first and only Lupin family holiday, Hope Lupin’s favourite wizarding sweet), the door opened.

Father and son didn’t look much alike. Remus was taller, his shoulders narrower and his cheeks more hollowed, whilst Lyall’s fuller face was topped with bright white hair and thin spectacles which slightly magnified his pale green eyes. But as he ushered them inside, Tonks thought she caught a glimpse of a resemblance: something about the set of the mouth, its worried straight line. Remus placed a hand on her back.

“Dad, I’d like you to meet Tonks. My wife. Tonks, this is my father, Lyall Lupin.”

“Wotcher!”

Tonks stepped forward to give her new father-in-law a squeeze, pinning his arms to his sides.

“It’s great to meet you!” She said, releasing him. “Cracking front garden! It’s like a jungle out there!”

Lyall blinked rapidly. “Th-thank you. I do enjoy a spot of gardening, though I like to let things run a little wild too…good for the bees, you know…well…” he looked at Remus, then back at Tonks again, “my goodness. Do come and sit down, both of you.”

The living room was empty except for two large packing boxes, a couple of sofas and a small bureau topped with photo frames. Tonks’ knee started jiggling as soon they sat down.

“You’re a much neater packer than me,” she said. “My boxes were an absolute state, they kept vomiting up socks every time we apparated.”

“Goodness me. Yes…Remus told me you’d moved in with him. Bit of a tight squeeze, is it?”

“A little,” said Remus at the same time Tonks declared, “Nope!”

Lyall smiled, a little weakly, looking from one to the other again.

“How are you?” Asked Remus.

Lyall looked around at the bare room. “I must admit, I thought I’d find leaving a little easier given all the moving we did when you were younger…but it turns out that seventeen years in one house creates rather a lot of memories to turn one’s back on.”

“I know how difficult it must be. I am sorry that it’s come to this, but there’s no other way to keep you safe.”

“We said goodbye to your mother in this house.”

“We did,” said Remus, quietly.

Tonks took his hand and held it in her lap.

“It’s…” Lyall began, staring at their entwined fingers, “not that I don’t trust your judgement, Remus, but I can’t help wondering if you’re being a little over-cautious. I was too small for the Death Eaters to bother with during the last war…”

“Things are different this time. My position is a little more…prominent.”

Lyall sighed. “I understand. Though it brings me no comfort. I worry about you a little more every day. I can’t keep myself from remembering what happened to those fine young people, your friends. Terrible. Just terrible,” he looked at Tonks, “I never thought Remus would become a - a resistance fighter, you know. That sort of thing just didn’t seem to be in his nature. He was always such a gentle child…despite everything…”

“I’ve arranged identity papers for you,” said Remus briskly, pulling crisp sheets of parchment from his robes, “and written out instructions for where you need to travel once you reach Wellington.”

“Lots of wicked plants in New Zealand, I hear. And you can go clabbert spotting in the hills!”

Lyall stared at Tonks for a few seconds, lost for words.

“Oh dear - tea!” He said suddenly, getting to his feet. “I’m sorry, erm, _Tonks_. I’m being an appalling host. I should get you something to drink. What would you like?”

“Whatever you’ve got! Cheers.”

As the bang of crockery sounded from the kitchen, Tonks bumped Remus’ shoulder and smiled at him.

“Loose leaf. Fancy!” she said, taking a cup and saucer from Lyall when he returned, trying not to grimace as scalding drops of water seeped through her jeans.

“Forgive my manners, Tonks. I realize I haven’t yet asked a single question about you. It’s not everyday that one gains a daughter-in-law out of the blue.”

“Blame me, it was all my idea!”

“Oh?” Lyall’s forehead wrinkled in confusion and he paused for a moment before regaining himself. “And - and how did you two meet? You’re a member of the Order of the Phoenix too, is that right?”

“Yeah!” She replied, rather louder than intended. “I joined about two years ago. That was back when the Ministry was denying you-know-who’s return. It drove me up the wall. I knew I had to fight, put all that training to some use.”

“Tonks is an Auror,” Remus added.

“An Auror!” Lyall’s white eyebrows rose and his gaze slid meaningfully across to his son. “I used to work for the Ministry of Magic myself, before…well…it was a long time ago.”

The conversation continued in fits and starts, every new turn producing the same faintly mystified look from Remus’ father, (“What an unusual name, ‘Tonks’ - what is the etymology of that?”… “Nope, never a prefect - not like this swot - Professor Sprout never forgave me for this incident with a badger one time, long story,”…. “Tonks is a metamorphmagus, actually Dad,”…)

“How was it, the night before last?” Lyall asked, tentative, after a lull in the conversation.

“The same as ever,” Remus replied.

“I still have sleepless nights when the moon is full…”

“Tell me about it,” said Tonks. “I was rolling around all night.”

“Where were…?”

“Tonks spent the night with some friends of ours,” said Remus.

“Ah, good. That’s good. Best for you to keep away.”

Tonks stood up, leaving her cup and saucer rattling together on the seat of the sofa.

“Can I have a look at your photos?” She blurted, already crossing the room.

“Of course, of course…I’ve been leaving those to pack up last.”

Tonks approached the neat line of frames and saw Hope Lupin for the first time: her thick brown hair framing a laughing smile as she stood in a flowery sundress, holding a chubby-limbed baby Remus; her arm shielding the sun from her eyes as she bobbed toddler Remus in the shallows of a lake; her face exhausted as she leant back in a chair cradling a red and wrinkled newborn Remus, his tiny hands clenching and unclenching where they rested on her collarbone. The largest photograph showed a slightly older Remus dressed in dungarees and kicking his legs on a wooden chair, mischief in his grin. Tonks picked it up.

“How old are you here?”

“Four, I believe.”

“Ah, I think that might be my favourite picture of you,” said Lyall, joining them.

Tonks glanced at Remus. His face was expressionless, his eyes slightly averted from the image. Tonks dug in her robe pocket.

“This is my favourite,” she said, pulling out the wedding photo she’d brought with her, in which confetti fell in showers over her thirty seven year old husband as he laughed, his arm linked through hers.

“My goodness…” said Lyall, looking at it only briefly, “your mother would be so pleased to see that, so proud…” he stared at Remus and, once again, something seemed to pass between them, “which reminds me, of course…the request you made in your letter. I’ve got it in a drawer upstairs, if you’d like to come up. Tonks, I hope you don’t mind but perhaps you could stay here for a few minutes. I’d like to have a brief word with my son.”

“Sure. Um, go for it.”

They went upstairs, leaving Tonks alone. The floorboards creaked overhead and she heard their muffled voices. She bit her thumbnail, tearing at it until it bled, fancying that she heard her own name. _Don’t do it._ She stared up at the ceiling, straining her ears. _Remus will tell you everything afterwards._ The talking continued, unintelligible and infuriating. _Don’t be a twat._ She drew her wand and made three invisible holes for the sound to pour through.

“….seeing you sitting there side-by-side…oh I don’t know, I don’t know what to think.”

“She may be young, but Tonks isn’t naive. She knows her own mind.”

“I just don’t understand the need for this terrible rush. Marriage isn’t something to be jumped into lightly. I - I’m trying to remember that old muggle saying your grandmother was so fond of…‘marry in haste, repent at leisure’, that’s the one isn’t it?”

Tonks pressed her fists to her mouth, squashing in a yelp.

“I know you value your privacy, you always have, but…I’d never even _heard_ of Tonks until your letter last night. You’ve never mentioned her once.”

“Things were…a little complicated for a while.”

“‘A little complicated’? This isn’t like you at all…never any girlfriends, not at school, not ever…you’ve been careful, sensible, always…”

“I know.”

“What on earth do her poor family think about all this? She’ll lose her job if this gets discovered. Every week it seems there’s another scare-mongering story about werewolves in the Daily Prophet, the Ministry tinkering with the laws, things getting stricter all the time…people won’t accept her, you know that don’t you?”

_Shut up. Shut up._

“I’ve experienced every one of these doubts, believe me. But Tonks, she - she is certain - ”

“It’s only a matter of time until you’ll have to move from that cottage. You remember the life your mother and I lived, never settled, always transitory. She put on a brave face, but…it’s no life to condemn a bright young woman to.”

“I know. I know, Dad.”

Tonks turned slowly on the spot, her hands covering her eyes. When Lyall next spoke, his voice was softer.

“I’m sorry…What I’m saying is terribly unfair on you, I know that. If it wasn’t for my mistake, you’d be free to love whoever you wanted, to get married…you’d be the perfect husband for her if it wasn’t for me. I’m to blame at the end of it,” his voice cracked, “I’m to blame…”

“No,” Remus said softly. “There is only one person to blame for my bite and that person is not you.”

Emotion choked Lyall’s next words and Tonks couldn’t make them out, but Remus’ reply came clear and steady:

“I’ve told you before, you mustn’t bear this burden. It’s water under the bridge between us now. Dad…please…”

“The ring belongs to Tonks,” said Lyall, his voice thick. “Of course it does. Your mother would want her to have it. She’d be delighted for you, she’d be whole-hearted in her blessing, in her joy, but I…I’m struggling to imagine a happy future for the two of you. I wish I could accept this marriage, believe me I do.”

“It’s alright. I understand.”

Some shuffling noises, the sound of a drawer opening and closing, then Remus and his father returned to the stairs. They froze when they saw Tonks waiting for them at the bottom.

“You’re wrong,” she said, her arms folded tight, looking directly up into Lyall’s eyes. “We’re going to be happy. We _are_ happy. Because I love your son with every ounce of my being and he feels the same way about me. Our marriage doesn’t need your blessing because it’s strong as nails without it, but Remus deserves better from you.”

There was no anger in Lyall’s face. He only stared back at Tonks, his eyes wide and sad.

“I wish Hope was here to meet you,” was all he said.

“Y-yeah. Me too.” Tonks’ anger flailed into confusion and she started walking backwards. “I’m gonna - _ow_ ,” she whacked her hip on the bureau, “I’m gonna wait outside.”

“That’s fine,” said Lyall, watching her from the stairs, a tear glinting behind his glasses. “That’s fine. Goodbye Tonks. You take care of yourself.”

“Right…thanks…you too…”

“I’ll join you in a few minutes,” said Remus, his hand on his father’s shoulder.

Tonks went out into the street and stormed straight across the road, ignoring a passerby laden with shopping bags who stared curiously at her hair. She began pacing, the wind streaming against her cheeks. It wasn’t long before Remus emerged, shutting the little gate behind him and walking slowly towards her.

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop,” he said, softly.

“He’s your dad! He should be happy for you! He shouldn’t be repeating all that bullshit you used to tell me!”

“Not everyone is like you, Tonks.”

“Well…maybe they should be!” She yelled. “Did you know he was going to react like that?”

“It didn’t surprise me.”

Tonks scoffed.

“Why did you let him say all that stuff to you? All that poisonous stuff about age and society and money, all that stuff that made you break up with me and kept us apart for a whole fucking year. You didn’t even argue back! He said he didn’t accept our marriage and your response was, ‘I understand’?!”

“I _do_ understand.”

Tonks seethed, breathing out through clenched teeth.

“How he feels is how I used to feel not so long ago. Of course I understand.”

“‘Used to?’” She demanded. “You sure about that?”

Remus placed his hands on her shoulders.

“I made my choice, Dora. I chose you. Chose us.”

He kissed her suddenly and she felt the truth of his words in the fervour of it, in the way his fingers threaded through her hair. She kissed him hard, angrily, in return.

“It’s an honour to have you fighting my corner,” said Remus, his face close to hers, “I love you for it more than I can say, but he’s my father and I won’t argue with him. Especially not now, not while he’s packing up his life to move to the other side of the world because of me.”

_Because of the war,_ Tonks corrected him in her head.

“He liked you. He was bowled over by you, quite frankly. He has our best interests at heart, even if you disagree with the conclusion he came to.”

“But…”

Tonks stepped back, muddled. She rubbed at her face and let out a long breath. She couldn’t work out the right thing to say. If his father had been furious, had thrown them out of the house, she would have known exactly what to do.

“It’s alright, Dora. We’ll face far worse reactions than that if our marriage becomes public.”

“But…he’s your _dad_.”

Remus said nothing.

“A few things about you make way more sense to me now.”

A careful expression tightened Remus’ face.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Forget it…I dunno what I meant…”

“Whatever opinion you might have formed of him this morning, he is a good father. He’s always done his best for me. Greyback committed a terrible atrocity against our family and I’m not sure he’s ever truly recovered. How could he? My mother and I were everything to him. He hid the truth from me for longer than he should, that’s true, but I’ve made my peace with that. Imagine yourself in his shoes: the father of a werewolf child, unable to provide a steady home for us, having to explain to a five year old what was happening to his body and mind, steadily losing everything that mattered to him one by one except for my mother and I; all the while feeling himself to blame for the pain reaped on his family,” Remus shook his head, “it was nothing short of unbearable. But he always loved me, despite what I am. Always.”

Tonks picked at her sleeve, her thoughts racing.

“I know this morning wasn’t quite how you imagined it. I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s not your fault.”

She wrapped her arms around his middle. He held her and they stood like that for a while in the quiet street, listening to the distant sounds of sheep.

“I have something for you,” he said, a little shyly.

He drew a faded velvet box out of his pocket and lifted the lid. The ring inside was gold, crowned with a small diamond nestled between two tiny blue sapphires.

“Oh…sparkly…wow, Remus. It’s stunning…”

He slid the engagement ring onto her finger, casting a wordless charm to make it fit perfectly beside her wedding ring.

“This was the only thing I was able to offer you when you got down on one knee before me on that mountain. Now it’s yours.”

She grabbed his face, inspiration for the right thing to say coming to her in a bubbling rush:

“Remus, I want you to know that I love every single part of you - including the you that’s a raging werewolf once a month. I want you _exactly_ as you are. I’d never wish for you to be any different.”

An undefinable, almost invisible, change crept over Remus’ face. Just as suddenly as the urge to say the words had gripped her, and without knowing what or understanding why, Tonks wished she had said something else.

“Let’s go back to the cottage,” he said. “We’ve stayed too long.”


	4. Three Tonks

**Chapter 4: Three Tonks**

Remus felt Tonks’ presence in the cottage even when he was alone. She was there in the crusts of toast scattered in places that crusts of toasts had hitherto never been seen (curled under the bed, wedged down sofa crevices, soggying themselves on the rim of the bathroom sink); the bra splayed over the lampshade; the armchair being steadily consumed by a crush of garments. That afternoon as finger-like nerves tickled his insides, he tidied her things away, trying to take comfort in their undimmable, irrepressible proliferation.

The walls trembled when Tonks slammed the door behind her. Remus turned to see her scrunching up her face to melt away a disguise and forest green curls sprouting from her crown. She was holding two very long, golden-papered packages which she deposited on the kitchen table.

“Afternoon,” she said, shrugging Remus’ travelling cloak off her shoulders. “Guess what I - ”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

She smirked. “If you were a Death Eater, would you really be casting folding charms on my knickers?”

Remus smiled, mildly flicking her underwear away into a drawer. “I could be a particularly fastidious Death Eater.”

“Alright,” Tonks stepped towards him and snaked her arms around his neck, “what item of my clothing did you accidentally rip one fateful night?”

“Your jeans. It was unforgivably clumsy of me.”

“You could have ripped off every last thing I had on, I wouldn’t have minded.”

She kissed him, slowly, then fished down her neckline and pulled out a thin chain on which her two rings dangled, returning them both to her finger.

“Why were you disguising your face? And what on earth have you brought home with you?”

Her eyes gleamed. “I’ve been to Diagon Alley. Check these out!”

She snatched up the two thin packages and handed one to him. He held it out in both hands, feeling its weight: it was light but hard, the faintly patterned gold wrapping luxurious to the touch. Tonks watched him eagerly.

“Is it...for me?”

“Open it!”

His dawning suspicion was confirmed when Tonks gleefully ripped the packaging off hers, revealing the shining mahogany hilt of a brand new broomstick.

“Aren’t they gorgeous?" She breathed, pressing the smooth wood to her cheek. “Mmm, there’s nothing like that newly varnished smell. They’re bloody fast too. Nimbus only released them a couple of days ago.”

Careful not to dent the fine golden paper, Remus placed his back down on the table.

“Dora, I don’t think I can accept this...”

“Don’t be daft. We both need new broomsticks. Mine got smashed up when I saved that wedding. I can’t use the Auror Office spare forever and that twiggy antique of yours is still stuck at Grimmauld Place.”

“But you mustn’t spend this kind of money on me. A broomstick of this calibre must have cost you...I don’t know...at least a hundred galleons.”

“A hundred galleons? You must be joking,” Tonks unwrapped the rest of her broomstick, revealing freshly oiled bristles and a handsome bronze saddle, “these bad boys are top of the range!”

“How much?”

“Please don’t make a fuss.”

“Tell me.”

“Four hundred.”

Remus winced.

“Each,” she added.

“Dora!”

“Wait until you fly it! It’s worth every knut I paid for it, trust me.”

“It’s too expensive. Far too expensive. It’s bad enough you pay for everything already, all our food, our upkeep, let alone something as extravagant as this. You should keep yours, of course - you deserve a top of the range broomstick to replace your old one - but what I was using before is absolutely fine for my purposes. I’ve been meaning to slip into Grimmauld Place to pick it up for a while.”

“It’s not worth risking your neck to pick up that bit of driftwood.”

“Sirius gave me that broom.”

“Yeah, didn’t it belong to his Death Eater brother, who died donkey’s years ago? Broomsticks don’t age like fine wines, you know.”

“Then I’ll procure another one. Second hand. Or borrowed from someone in the Order. You must understand that I can’t accept a gift of this magnitude - nor will I ever be able to afford to pay you back.”

“It’s not a gift, you muppet! And you don’t have to pay me back either. My money’s your money, remember? If it wasn’t too much of a risk that the Ministry would notice, we’d have merged our vaults already.”

“My vault is empty. I’ve told you this before.”

“Right. I know, I know,” said Tonks, talking rapidly, the colour rising in her cheeks, “so I’ll get you a key to mine as soon as it’s safe. You need to chill out about the money stuff. Seriously. My salary’s decent, you know it is. Even with the wartime reduction, I earn more than enough for the two of us to live on and I saved bags of cash from not paying London rent last year. We’re not exactly living a lavish lifestyle are we? Out clubbing every weekend, holidays in the bloody...I don’t know where...”

“You do difficult, dangerous work to earn that salary. It’s not right for you to just give it to me when I can’t contribute anything in return.”

Tonks crossed her arms. “James and Sirius used to give you money.”

Shame prickled at the base of Remus’ spine. “Yes, they...but I wasn’t exactly given much choice in the matter. They were quite forceful about it.”

“More forceful than me?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s not. We’re married, which means I’m not giving it, I’m sharing it.”

“I won’t spend your money, Tonks.”

“It’s our money! These are our brooms!” She cried, waving hers over her head. “How are we supposed to be equal partners if we don’t share everything equally?”

“We'll never be equal partners,” he said, faster than he could think.

“Then you clearly have a different understanding of the vows we took than I do,” she snapped back.

The chilly silence that followed was broken by Tonks seizing the second broom and tearing away its wrapping. She pulled her wand out of her pocket.

“Don’t - !”

She carved a long scratch down the hilt of his broomstick, its varnished surface coming away in a strip.

“There,” she said, scowling at him. “Now it can’t be returned.”

“That was a little immature.”

“Don’t fucking call me immature, Remus.”

“I didn’t mean that you were immature, but what you’ve done to the - ”

“The difference between a quality broom and a shit one is the difference between being alive and being dead. If the Ministry fiddles with the laws and Mad Eye can’t get Harry by side-along, you can’t possibly ride that old thing of Regulus Black’s: the Death Eaters won’t be riding a bunch of old bangers, you can be sure of that, and I don’t want to have to scrape you off some muggle motorway because you’re too proud to ride a Nimbus!”

With no other room to storm off to, Tonks bolted back out of the front door, her new broomstick in hand. Remus covered his face. _Eight hundred_ galleons…

But he followed her outside, as he always would. Standing on the grass, he looked up to see her flying at speed, disappearing and reappearing through the clouds, the green corkscrews of her hair streaming behind her, her shadow moving over the ground below. The broomstick was magnificent: sharp and exacting in its movements, Tonks cut the sky with it, zipping in precise right-angled turns and soaring in perfect vertical ovals. Remus remembered the first time he ever saw her fly, how he couldn’t take his eyes off her, off the unbridled freedom and joy of her flight that was like a dance. She was even better now.

She saw him and swooped down to land, dismounting hard in front of him. She wasn’t smiling but her eyes were bright with the thrill of the flight, her chest rising and falling.

“You always fly beautifully, but that was quite something.”

She raised her eyebrows in expectation.

“It certainly looks worth every knut. You were right. We need proper broomsticks if we’re going to have a chance of protecting Harry. My reaction was ungracious. Ungrateful. I didn’t even thank you.”

“I don’t want a _grateful_ husband.”

“I’m afraid that’s what you’ve got. A grateful, sorry, generally wretched husband.”

“I don’t know what to say to you sometimes,” she shook her head, looking down at the grass, “I always seem to make it worse.”

“It’s entirely my fault.”

“You’ll be free to earn your own money one day. That’s the world we’re fighting for.”

James Potter used to say something remarkably similar, but Remus didn’t want to think about that so he only nodded.

“Until that day comes, you’ve just got to put up with it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Don’t believe the worst about yourself, believe me instead,” she said, her broomstick pressing into his back as she hugged him.

He breathed in the fresh air smell of her hair. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

“Was that our first ever petty argument?”

“An important milestone for every couple.”

“You’re nervous about tonight, aren’t you?” She asked, poking at his torso. “You’re all tense. Like a breadstick.”

“I am a little nervous.”

“I thought so. I’ve seen you looking more relaxed facing down a troop of Death Eaters. Just be your usual gentlemanly self and they’ll love you. Mum’ll be shocked you settled for this ragamuffin.”

Remus highly doubted that. The assurance Tonks had given him only a few weeks ago that her parents were ‘fine’ about his condition felt flimsier than ever. Even when the time came for them to clasp hands, he was still making bargains inside his head, begging the nothingness to offer him some excuse. But nothing could forestall the inevitable and so they apparated, appearing behind a wide tree in North London, the sound of their arrival making a nearby window cleaner jump and almost drop his bucket. Tonks led him through a yellow gate into the back garden, where Remus saw the pond in which he knew she had once charmed the tadpoles bright pink, then round to the front of the house. When Tonks rapped on the door with its brass fox-shaped knocker, any final hopes of escape died.

“Who’ve we got here then? Is that Dora?”

“Y’alright, Dad? What’s my favourite pudding?”

“Sticky toffee, of course! What’s the name of the ratty old bear up in your bedroom that Nana Tonks got you from Spitalfields?”

Tonks rolled her eyes at Remus.

“Mr Plonky. You’re being embarrassing on purpose.”

“I’m your dad! If that’s not my function I don’t know what is.”

The door opened to reveal Ted Tonks: sandy haired, with a cheerful paunch just visible beneath a stripy flour-dusted apron, and more than a few traces of his daughter in the roundness of his smiling cheeks, the twinkle in his dark blue eyes.

"Hello Remus, I'm Ted. We meet again. Under much nicer circumstances this time."

They shook hands and hot gratitude swelled in Remus’ chest.

“It’s lovely to see you. Thank you for inviting me to your home.”

“Don't mention it - come in, come in. We’ve got crisps, we’ve got dips, we’ve got carrot sticks…”

They stepped inside and through a hallway into a large open-plan room. Handsome brown leather sofas surrounded a coffee table in the living area, beyond which was a dining table drenched in evening sunlight from a peaked skylight above and, further back, overlooking the garden through a large picture window, was the kitchen.

Andromeda was lighting a large candle with her wand. She was tall and slim in a black dress with her thick hair pinned and two silver drop earrings glinting at her neck. She straightened up and her eyes met Remus’. It happened quickly, too quickly for anyone else to notice, but in that moment they were alone together - she a mother, he an interloper - and he knew that Tonks had lied to him. A werewolf was not, and would never be, ‘fine’. She smiled and walked towards him, her pale hand outstretched to greet him. A brave performance. He took her hand and smiled back.

“Remus, welcome. Nymphadora, I see you’ve come as some sort of vegetable this evening.”

“Cheers, Mum. Just what I was going for.”

Ted returned with glasses of wine.

“Your house is beautiful,” said Remus.

“Thank you. I understand from Nymphadora that you’re living in Yorkshire,” said Andromeda.

“Yes. I have a small cottage on the North Yorkshire moors.”

“It’s gorgeous,” said Tonks, stuffing crisps into her mouth with her right hand.

“Never thought you’d be a country girl!” Said Ted. “I can’t believe you’ve managed to drag her out of the city!”

The conversation landed on the weather, the war, the Auror Department, and Remus acted his part well; politeness his crutch as he concentrated on not drinking too fast, on resisting the alcohol’s sweet desensitizing promise. But Tonks’ eyes started to flicker towards him more and more often and when she put her arm around him and took a breath to speak, his stomach dropped: he wished himself the lowest of water mites on the bed of their pond.

“So, don’t freak out," she said, “but we’ve got big news.”

Andromeda blanched, the facade cracking as she looked Tonks up and down.

“Nymphadora, don’t tell me you’re…pregnant?”

“Mum! No! Of course not!”

“Panic over!" Said Ted, shooting what looked like a warning look at Andromeda. "What is it then, Dora love? What’s the big news?”

“We got married.”

Tonks pulled her hand out of her pocket with a flourish. Ted’s mouth fell open and he blinked at the rings. Andromeda immediately turned her back on them, hiding her face.

“Blimey! But you...Dora, you...didn’t invite us. Your mum and dad.”

“Oh Dad, it wasn’t like that! We didn’t invite anyone. We had to get married fast, you see.”

“Had to? Fast? But why?” Asked Ted.

“Because - because we wanted to! Because the war’s hotting up and we had to seize the day!”

“I’m not sure that makes me feel any better,” said Ted, his cheeks seeming to sag as he spoke, looking older than he had when he’d first greeted them at the door. “Married. Our girl’s gone and gotten herself married…”

Andromeda span back around, a lock of hair falling loose and bouncing to her shoulder. A tear glistened between two dark eyelashes, but her lips were steady.

“Nymphadora, may I speak with you a moment?”

“Nope, you may not. Let’s have it out right here. Say what you want to say.”

“You’ve broken your poor father’s heart by eloping like this,” she said in a hushed, controlled voice, “and as for me,” she looked at Remus, “I don’t even know where to begin - ”

“Look, I’m sure you’d have loved for me to have miles of lace and flower girls and a great big old palaver with a colour scheme and speeches, but that’s not me. You know that’s not me. Anyway, you’re ones to talk - you eloped!”

Andromeda’s nostrils flared. “Ted’s mother was at our wedding actually. I hardly need to remind you of the reason for our secrecy and I do not appreciate the comparison, young lady.”

All three began to speak over at each other at once.

“ - I don’t give a monkey’s about lace or speeches, it was your big day and I wasn’t there to give you away - ”

“ - it was impulsive and selfish and have you even _considered_ how - ?”

“ - Dad, I love you, but don’t you think that the whole ‘giving away’ thing’s a bit sexist - ?”

“ - sexist, my arse - !”

“ - Nymphadora, you are utterly ridiculous - ”

“- I told you not to freak out, will you just take a breath and - ”

“ - we’re your mum and dad, we’re allowed to feel a little - ”

“ - how could you not have spoken to us first - ?”

“ - can’t you just be happy that I’m happy - ?”

Remus stood with his glass clenched tight in his hand as they argued over everything except the true subject of their argument. He felt too tall for the room, looming over them, his bite mark tingling. He wanted to drop to his knees and beg their forgiveness for the half-life their daughter had thrown herself away to, but instead he cleared his throat.

“It was our original intention to invite you, and my father as well, to the wedding.”

They fell silent and looked at him.

“We know that a wedding isn’t only about the couple in question, it’s about family too. It wasn’t, and isn’t, our intention to keep you at a distance. The reason we did what we did was purely for safety’s sake - Dora and I are in the unfortunate positions of being particular targets of the Death Eaters and, given everything, we felt it best to marry in secret and so avoid the risks inherent in planned gatherings. I know that doesn’t lessen the hurt of being excluded and for that I apologise unreservedly. But although the ceremony was just the two of us, we hope that the celebration won’t be. After the war, we want to hold a - a reception and we’d be honoured by your presence there as mother and father of the bride. Dora, I know you eschew anything traditional, but you deserve to have your family and friends around you, to - to give you a proper send-off, as it were. Even if...” he hesitated, the words fighting not to come, “even if...the groom may not be quite what - what anyone had in mind...”

He couldn’t go on. He knew it was pathetic, a further insult to her parents not to address his condition directly, but he couldn’t bear to. It was painful enough promising a reception he could ill afford, for a wedding Ted and Andromeda could never celebrate, in a future he was unlikely to live to see.

Tonks beamed at him. “The groom is too modest. No one could dream up better than him.”

“Well,” Ted swallowed, staring at his daughter’s radiant expression, “well...when you put it like that…it makes a little more sense, doesn’t it? We’ll have a proper wedding bash after the war’s over. It’s fair enough now that I think about it and the - the initial shock’s worn off a bit. Safest for all concerned. Don’t you think, ’Dromeda?”

But Andromeda was facing away from them all again. Ted put his arm around her and whispered something. She responded with a short nod. Tonks’ grasp on Remus’ arm was like a pincer as they waited.

“Well, that settles it. I think some congratulations are in order!” Ted said, loudly.

Remus felt another surge of gratitude and affection for the man who had somehow become his father-in-law.

“I - I think we’ve got some champagne somewhere,” Andromeda muttered, heading for the kitchen.

“That’s right, crack it open! Bubbly’s the only thing for a wedding.”

“That was amazing,” Tonks whispered in his ear, before bouncing over to hug her father.

Andromeda returned and a floating bottle filled Remus’ glass with champagne. He thanked her, hardly daring to glance in her direction. She knocked her glass back in one and Remus, before he could stop himself, did the same. Andromeda refilled them both without a word. They stood together, watching Ted and Tonks rocking back and forward in their embrace.

“Look!” Said Tonks, pulling wedding photos from her pocket and passing them around.

“Beautiful veil,” Andromeda murmured.

“Remus made it for me! I should have brought it along to show you. You can’t quite tell from the angle of my head, but on that side there were all these stitches in the shape of the Andromeda galaxy. And on the other side the stitches were like a map of the East End. So you were both there. In a way.”

“Very thoughtful. Nice magic, that,” said Ted.

“And there,” Tonks pointed, “that’s the Sirius star.”

Andromeda’s expression was unreadable. Remus thought of their first meeting two years ago. He had been the one to tell her that her cousin was dead. He wondered if she was thinking of it too, of the shell of a man who had staggered away from her, now inexplicably standing in her living room.

“If only he could have been here today,” she said.

“Yes,” Remus replied, as the grief that would never grow old rolled over him.

He knew the dinner was delicious but he couldn't taste it. He laughed when appropriate, he softly rebuffed the praise Tonks kept sending his way, he delivered a few gentle retorts that made Ted chuckle.

“Not eating your cauliflower cheese, love?" Asked Ted, noticing the untouched pile of it on Tonks' plate.

“Don’t really fancy it tonight," she replied, scraping it onto Remus'.

When they had finished, Remus took the plates to the kitchen counter. It was dark outside and the window before him showed only his reflection. Andromeda came and stood beside him. He cast scouring charms whilst she dried and floated the dishes back to their places in the cupboards. Behind them, reflected in the window, Ted and Tonks were laughing; leaning forward on the table, their faces glowing in the candlelight. Andromeda spoke an incantation and Remus heard a new buzz of voices: his and hers, conversing just a little too faintly for any individual words to be picked out, enclosing them in a mask of sound. He turned his head slowly to look at her. Her dark eyes seemed bottomless. When she spoke, her voice was low, every syllable precise.

“My daughter is not as invincible as she seems to think she is. She thinks she can control everything, but she can’t. She loves you, that’s obvious, but she’s too young to realize that sometimes love is not enough. I won’t list all of the very real reasons why this marriage is dangerous. You know them already. They were once enough to keep you away from her for a year, but apparently not enough to keep you from proposing at the end of it.”

“I…”

“Oh. Why am I not surprised? My daughter has always been a force of nature - she’s certainly trampled you into submission, hasn’t she?” Andromeda pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “That’s cruel. I’m sorry. You’re in love with her and I can hardly blame you for that...Ted wouldn’t approve of me speaking to you like this. It always falls to me to be the harsh one, the one who has to say the honest thing even when it is cruel. No marriage is perfect. But I’m hard pressed to think of any marriage that will suffer as much as yours will.”

“I’m sorry,” Remus breathed. “I’m so very sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. You’ve made the decision. You’re married. It’s done. The least you can do now is stick to it with conviction. But if you’re careless, if you put her in any more danger than you already have, if you hurt her - again - or do anything less than your upmost best, don’t expect forgiveness. Not from me, not from Ted. And not from Nymphadora either.”

“I wouldn’t deserve forgiveness if I did.”

“All my life...” Andromeda breathed deeply and stared straight ahead, a finger tracing her forearm, “all my life, I’ve tried to get as far away as possible from my sister and her evil...Every parent wants to keep their child safe, but what can you do when your child doesn’t want to be safe?”

Remus didn’t answer.

“Have you thought about how my sister might punish Nymphadora if she finds out about this marriage? If she captures the two of you together? Because I have.”

Remus gripped the counter, trying to stifle the squeezing urge to vomit into the sink. “I would die to protect her. I swear to you,” he said, in a strangled whisper, “there is nothing in the world more important to me than your daughter.”

Andromeda met his gaze in the black mirrored glass of the window. “We understand each other then."

She broke the spell and pushed a set of spoons into his hands. There was a question in Tonks’ eyes when they returned to the table, but his smile was as smooth as Andromeda’s as they sat back down. Remus took a deep sip of wine.

“We’ve got some news of our own,” Ted announced, once the second course had been portioned out. “You won’t like it Dora, that’s why I’ve softened you up with your favourite pudding.”

“What is it?” Tonks asked, her spoon pausing on the way to her mouth.

“Your mother and I have decided to join the Order of the Phoenix.”

“You’re not serious,” said Tonks, looking from one parent to the other.

“Oh yes we are. We’ve been considering it for a while and we’ve decided the time is right. We want to help,” said Ted.

“We’re already targets. We might as well do some good,” said Andromeda.

“No bloody way! I’m against it.”

“I didn’t realize you were the sole gatekeeper, dear daughter,” said Ted, tweaking her nose.

Tonks batted his hand away. “This is insane! You can’t join the Order. No offence, but neither of you can fight - Mum’s said it before, she’s crap at duelling!”

“Remus,” said Ted, turning in his seat, “you’ve been in the Order longer than Dora has. What do you think? Is there a place for us?”

Remus put down his glass, knowing that duty bound him to return only one answer.

“We’re always in need of new members. Now more than ever.”

Tonks’ spoon clattered to the table. Her mouth opened in silent outrage.

“There’s more to the Order than wand-to-wand combat. There’s intelligence gathering, surveillance, providing safe houses…New recruits we know we can trust without question are incredibly rare.”

“See! We can be useful,” said Ted, with a satisfied nod.

“It’s not a hobby club, Dad! Are you aware of the mortality rate? Remus is one of the only first generation members who hasn’t wound up dead.”

“You don’t need to remind us of the atrocities that my sister and her ilk are capable of.”

“We need the numbers,” Remus said quietly to Tonks.

“Not this desperately!” She hissed back. “You’re only saying yes to them because you want them to like you!”

Remus’ cheeks burned. He twisted the napkin in his lap.

“There is no need for comments like that, Nymphadora,” said Andromeda. “Remus is simply being honest.”

“You’re too old! You're almost fifty!”

“We’re a darn sight younger than your beloved Mad Eye Moody!” Said Ted. “That man’s half century’s long behind him. We may be your parents, but we’re our own people. We couldn’t stop you when you joined up, could we? It’s just the same.”

Tonks put her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand, watching the sticky syrup glob from her spoon into her bowl, not looking at any of them.

Remus had hoped for a swift return to the cottage, but when Ted invited them to stay the night Tonks accepted, bounding upstairs to her old bedroom. Except for the occasional shot of an alarmingly young and short-haired Bill Weasley, Remus didn’t recognise any of the friends whose photographs covered every inch of her walls. Dancing, jumping, baring their teeth, slinging their arms around teenage Tonks - their images interposed with scrawled song lyrics and fading concert tickets - he wondered where they were now, whether they missed her. The adult Tonks was frowning as she undressed, sitting heavily down on the bed and unclipping her bra, supporting her breasts in her hands. Remus’ head was swimming. The drummer from the Weird Sisters leered down at him from the ceiling.

“We can keep them out of the most dangerous assignments. I promise,” he said.

“I know, but they’re my _parents_ ,” she said in a whispered wail. “It makes me feel sick to think of them in harm's way. I’ve tried to keep them at a distance ever since I joined.”

“Perhaps I shouldn't have accepted their request so readily, but the Order is weak compared to the Death Eaters. Too weak. We need all the help we can get.”

“I know,” Tonks scraped her fingers through the roots of her hair, “and I know I can’t stop them. I inherited my stubborn genes from them after all.”

He sat down and put his arm around her. “I don’t want us to argue.”

Tonks leant back into him. “Me neither. I shouldn’t have said that stupid thing about you wanting them to like you.”

“Well, it was half true...”

Tonks snorted. “You’ll have plenty of opportunities to bond now they’ll be coming to every bloody meeting! Seriously though, I thought tonight actually went really well. Bit of a wobble at the beginning obviously, but you saved the day with that little speech. Don’t worry about Mum, she’s always a bit standoffish until she gets to know a person. It was really lovely to have the four of us together for the first time.”

Remus said the only truthful thing in his head that wouldn’t upset her. “I love you so much.”

She tilted her head back and guided him by his chin into a kiss. He closed his eyes, trying to forget everything except her. Her skin was smooth and hot, her mouth hungry as it opened his. She lay back on the bed, pulling him down with her.

“Your - your parents...” Remus stammered, as her legs in their tight black denim widened to wrap around him, “they’re only across the corridor...”

“Nothing a good muffling charm won’t fix.”

His heart pattered against his ribs, but he couldn’t stop his hands from roving over the swells of her body. She bit her lip and flexed, pressing herself hard against where he lay on top of her. He kissed her, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the room, trying to drown himself, but he shuddered: Ted and Andromeda were close, too close; they had allowed him into their house and now he was pawing at their daughter; a son-in-law with blood-drenched nightmares -

“... _how my sister might punish Nymphadora._..”

Remus sat up, the sheets ruching around his legs as his back hit the wall.

“Woah! What is it?”

Tonks’ eyes were wide, her lips a little puffy. She propped herself up on her elbows, her jean buttons undone and her hair cascading in green spirals over her naked chest.

“Remus, what’s wrong?”

“I...I...”

It was too terrible to put into words. Tonks curled her legs underneath her and took his hands.

“Talk to me.”

“It’s - it’s a little embarrassing,” he said, once his breathing had slowed enough for him to speak.

“You never need to be embarrassed with me.”

“I think I may have drunk a little too much wine this evening.”

“You mean...? _Oh_.”

“I - I don’t want to let you down.”

“No, no - don’t be silly,” she said, attempting to control the astonishment on her face. “It’s totally normal. Don’t feel embarrassed for a second, okay? Crikey, you scared me - I thought it was gonna be something awful.”

“I shouldn’t have had that final glass. Nerves, I suppose.”

Tonks rummaged under her pillow and pulled out a violently purple, one-eyed teddy bear. “Are you sure it’s not Mr Plonky?” She asked, waggling it at him. “Bit of a turn-off right?”

Somehow a laugh escaped him. Tonks kissed him on the forehead.

“Mum and Dad have kept my room the same ever since I graduated, the nutcases.”

“You’re their only daughter.”

Tonks stood up and pulled some old pyjamas out of a chest of drawers, casting an enlarging spell on the plainest pair and throwing them to him.

“Come on then, let’s get some sleep. You’re drunk and I’m knackered.”

Remus was still awake when Tonks’ foot gave the little twitch that meant she had fallen asleep. He wanted to cling onto her, to hold her so tight that he disappeared, but he was afraid to wake her, afraid to drag her out of her dreams. The longer he lay there, the emptier the bed seemed: there was only Tonks breathing her snuffling breaths and the shapeless darkness that surrounded her, there was nothing else. A memory stole over Remus, its words cold in their clarity.

“ _How do you know Nymphadora? Who are you to her?_ ”

“ _I’m - I’m not - I’m not anyone_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading xx


	5. Rush

**Chapter 5: Rush**

“They know.”

Though the words were whispered, they were loud in her ear: Remus was holding her so tight that the silver clasps of her robes dug hard into her sternum. There was a letter crushed in the cold sweat of her fist.

“Dora, they _know_.”

She wriggled free so she could look him in the face. Golden sunlight fell from the cottage’s window and across the angled hollows of his cheeks, blurring his fine lines and illuminating the flecked patterns of grey in his irises.

“Yeah,” she said, a little breathy.

She wouldn’t insult his intelligence by offering false comfort. The crumpled note in her hand, written in Arthur Weasley’s hurried handwriting, told them that the Scally Wizzbee’s owner had been added to the Ministry’s missing persons register. There was no point denying what that meant.

“Listen to me,” Remus cupped the back of her head, “whatever happens tonight, you fly straight to Muriel’s for your portkey. You get to the Burrow. You come back to me alive. _You come back to me_.”

“I’ll always come back to you,” she said, barely finishing the sentence before he was kissing her hard.

“If you meet Bellatrix - ” he said, pulling away just as suddenly.

“You-know-who thinks we’re moving Harry on the thirtieth. There’ll only be grunts on guard duty tonight, not - ”

“If you meet Bellatrix, you fly away from her as fast as you possibly can. Do you understand me?”

“Straight to Muriel’s portkey, no funny business. And I expect the same from you if, for some mad reason, Snape happens to be taking an evening flight over Surrey tonight, alright?”

“Don’t try to capture her, just get away - ”

“ _I know_. Remus, I know. I’m a hell of a lot smarter than I was two years ago. Besides,” she attempted a smile, “I’ll have bigger problems than Bellatrix if I don’t return Ron safely to Molly.”

“I love you,” said Remus, his jaw clenching.

“I know that too,” she whispered.

He kissed her again, almost hesitatingly this time, as if forcing himself to be slow, to memorise it.

“Oi,” she said, pushing softly against his chest, “don’t kiss me like you’re saying goodbye. Just because Harry’s involved doesn’t mean it’s not a normal mission, okay?”

He said nothing, only stroked her cheek with his thumb. The room grew dimmer. They both glanced at the window.

“It’s almost time,” he said.

Tonks nodded, then began rolling her shoulders, stretching out her back. Remus drew his wand, flexing his fingers around it slightly, then summoned his travelling cloak and slew it around himself. Tonks seized one broomstick and pressed the other into his hand. They made their way towards the door shoulder-to-shoulder, dressed all in black, their faces set.

———-

“Hold tight now, Ron.”

A pair of tentative hands hovered a millimetre from her waist.

“Tighter than that unless you want to land on your arse in the geraniums when we push off.”

Ron scooched closer, grasping handfuls of her robes and asking in a low voice, “What are the chances of Death Eaters, d’you reckon?”

“Pretty high, I won’t lie to you. There’ll have at least two on guard duty up there, so have your wand ready.”

Plan B was in full swing. Kingsley’s investigations had left no room for doubt that the Death Eaters’ new puppet was Thicknesse, the leader of Magical Law Enforcement who, just as they’d feared, was situated in a prime position to disrupt their carefully-laid Plan A. Tonks traced her finger over the long scratch marking the hilt of her broomstick - Remus hadn’t noticed her making the swap - and smiled a little at the bizarre spectacle in the Dursley’s back garden: Hermione patting gingerly at her straight black hair, accidentally knocking off her new glasses which fell to the hooves of the thestral she shared with Kingsley; George stroking the bristles of Remus’ new broomstick in admiration, pausing occasionally to stare bemusedly at his hands; Fleur squirming, upsetting her and Bill’s thestral which stamped its bony foreleg to create a rivet in the otherwise immaculate lawn. The voices of multiple Harrys blended together, but the real Harry was quiet, looking uncomfortable, his knees level with his chin in the sidecar beside Hagrid.

Tonks glanced upwards. The sky was as vast as a waveless ocean, unknowable, disturbed only by the navy blue clouds floating across its surface. Ron was silent, staring up at it as well.

“You were Keeper for Gryffindor, right?” She asked him.

“What? Oh - yeah. I was, yeah...”

“Thought so. I saw you flying one time when I was guarding the castle last year. You were great.”

“Really?” Ron sounded surprised but quickly corrected himself, a new warmth creeping into his voice, “I mean - cool, thanks.”

A sputtering roar erupted from Sirius’ giant motorbike and Tonks looked at it properly for the first time. It really was huge, even with a man of Hagrid’s proportions sat upon it. Its body was a shining, liquid black and its tires were the size of tree stumps. Insects danced in the blaring light of its headlamp. Tonks felt the engine’s shuddering vibrations under her feet and imagined Sirius, the younger Sirius she had never known, sat astride its leather seat, his lip curling as he looked up into the sky he was about to split apart, and a strange desire gripped her: she wanted to ride it herself, to twist the thick accelerator, to surge into the night like a rocket.

Mad Eye’s voice snapped her back to herself. “Good luck everyone. See you all in about an hour at the Burrow.”

His non-magical eye rested on her last, as she knew it would. It was their little ritual: the grim nod he gave her, the wide grin she gave him. When he turned the grey matted frizz of his head away, preparing to lead their ascent, Tonks felt something - a tiny weight - drop into her pocket, but before she could put a hand inside to check -

“On count of three -

Ron’s fists tightened on her robes. Tonks bent her knees, braced for take off.

“ - one, two, three.”

She dug her heels into the damp ground and sprang. The wind rushed in her ears as they hurtled upwards, the broomstick’s power barely inhibited by the extra weight. Tonks could smell the acrid heat of the motorbike, see the thestrals’ long manes rippling as their black hooves ate up the air, climbing higher and higher, leaving a world of tiny twinkling lights far below them. They broke the cloud layer and Tonks nudged the broom westwards, preparing to split off, but then she saw it: a ring of hooded figures surrounding them, double their number, clad in masks with empty eye sockets. Screams ruptured the night and Tonks aimed her wand at the chest of the Death Eater closest to she and Ron, but no sooner had she formed the first syllable, she had to jerk the broomstick violently upwards with her knees to avoid a streak of green light headed their way. The killing curse struck the fake luggage dangling below them instead, severing its link to the broomstick and sending it spiralling down to earth.

“Fuck! Hold on, Ron!”

Tonks let the broomstick drop like a stone, falling even faster than they’d risen, down, down, until the flashes and shrieks were high above them. Then she recovered her bearings and shot forwards. Tonks’ hands turned to ice and her cheeks rippled with the acceleration as the booms and yells grew fainter behind them. She grit her teeth and leaned low on the broomstick, disobeying every instinct that pleaded with her to go back and fight. Her duty was to follow Mad Eye’s instructions, to keep her promise to Remus, to get Ron safely to the portkey. A body tumbled out of the darkness and Tonks swerved. The swirling black robes sank out of sight, but before Tonks could attempt to identify who it was, a green jet passed by her ear.

“They’re chasing us!” Ron yelled.

“How many?”

“Three! Right on our tail! How the hell did they know it was tonight?!”

But Tonks couldn’t think about that now, all she could focus on was zigzagging, feverishly making her flight as unpredictable as possible whilst maintaining their breathtaking speed as the curses rained. Flying one-handed, she cast a shield charm behind them but it was immediately shattered by the red sparks of a Cruciatus curse. Ron flinched to avoid it, almost losing his balance.

“Four! There’s four of them now!”

Her peripheral vision assaulted by flashes, Tonks ducked and corkscrewed, barrel rolled and dived at speeds she’d never flown at before, intermittently blinded by patches of clouds, blood throbbing at her temples every time the lights of the ground appeared above their heads. On their left, a Death Eater in a dead-eyed mask swooped towards them, wand pointed straight at Ron but Tonks shot a stunner to their throat. They keeled backwards, legs tipping up as they slipped off their broom. Tonks twisted round, craning her neck to see the remaining three still pursuing them. She stretched out her wand arm, trying to get a good aim -

“In front! In front!” Ron bellowed.

Tonks looked back just in time to loop underneath the Death Eater in their path, pointing her wand upwards to freeze their broomstick as she did so. The Death Eater pitched forwards, clinging on desperately, but Tonks didn’t pause to find out their fate. She kept her pace and cast a series of protective charms over her shoulder: a tidal wave of water with the strength of a brick wall, flames that chased their targets, choking puffs of smoke -

“Any of that work?”

“No! They’re doing counter spells or something, they’re still coming!”

Tonks swore. “Okay, Ron, I’m gonna need you to fire some stunners to get them off our tail. See if you can turn around on the broom, you’ll get a better aim that way...that’s it,” she said, once he’d managed it, “now stupefy them to hell!”

Ron began firing. “ _Stupefy, stupefy, stupefy_!”

Tonks pushed on, urging the broomstick faster, thinking of the portkey, her duty, her promise - even as the thought of Remus, Mad Eye, Harry, and every other friend and Order member she’d left behind in the melee wracked her with the urge to turn back. She dared a look over her shoulder just as one of Ron’s stunners hit an attacker square in the face.

“I got one! I got one!”

Tonks counted it as a blessing that, in his excitement, Ron had not fully comprehended the truth of what he had just done. “Fantastic!” She told him. “We’ll make an Auror of you yet.”

But her grin froze on her face. She’d spotted something - fifty metres away, moving at speed - and it chilled her to the bone, made goosebumps pepper every inch of skin underneath her clothes. A white skull. A skeleton in a cloak. A nightmare in flight. Tonks shivered, blinking in disbelief, but the thing vanished into the night as quickly as she’d seen it.

“The Death Eaters have gone!” Shouted Ron, staring in the opposite direction. “Where’ve they gone?”

“ _What_?”

Tonks scanned the night, but Ron was right: the skies were empty. The sudden stillness didn’t fill her with relief though, instead she felt a burn of fear. Something was wrong. They were passing over what Tonks hoped was Bath when Ron let out a yell -

“Arrrrghhh! Not her! _Stupefy! Stupefy_!”

A high shriek, carried on the air, reached her just as a writhing ball-like shape whizzed past. Though it was almost invisible against the night sky, Tonks knew what the thing was from its smell. It was like hot metal, burnt dust, dry bone: the smell of death, the smell of stone steps rising to meet her as she tumbled in failure. Bellatrix giggled. A guttural, indecent sound that made the pit of Tonks’ stomach spasm, the ghost of the scar she’d morphed away tense as if stroked by a finger.

“Fleeing from me, are you? Too afraid to face me, you werewolf’s slut? Scared of what Auntie Bellatrix might do to you this time?”

Tonks screwed up her face in hatred, leaning further forward, weaving and gliding to avoid the projectiles. They could make it, they weren’t far now -

“Afraid you’ll end up like dear, departed Sirius?”

Tonks’ nails cut into her palm as she squeezed her fingers tight around her wand. _I’m not afraid. I could kill you if I wanted to, I could pay you back, you murderous bitch._ But she couldn’t, she had to be smarter, faster, than she’d been at the Department at Mysteries. Something collided with the back of her broomstick, flinging its tail upwards. Ron yelled, grabbing her middle as Tonks fought to regain control. She could smell smoke.

“Put that out!”

“ _A-aguamenti_!” Cried Ron, extinguishing the bristles as Tonks righted the broomstick once more.

“I’m going to murder this little doppelgänger, what do you think about that, niece?”

“No, you’re not! _Stupefy_!” He yelled.

Bellatrix dismissed it with a flick of her wand and another shriek of laughter. _She knows he’s not Harry, but how? How the hell does she know?_ Every time Tonks thought they’d outflown her, a new spell came for them - black snakes that tried to bind them, spiderwebs dripping in poison that appeared directly in their path, nothing that promised a quick death. Tonks cried out when something finally hit her: cold and worm-like, it slipped down her ear canal and immediately a terrible voice flooded her brain -

“WEREWOLF’S WHORE. BRIDE OF SCUM. SHAME OF MY HOUSE.”

Bellatrix’s words echoed and bounced inside Tonks’ skull, drowning out every other sound, drowning even her own thoughts.

“A CANKER ON THE ROSE OF MY FAMILY. A VIRUS. A WORTHLESS COCKROACH.”

Tonks fought the urge to scratch at her scalp, her head was pounding; pain surged with every pulse of blood in her temples.

“I’LL WIPE AWAY THE STAIN OF YOU AND YOUR MUDBLOOD FATHER.”

Ron was shouting something, but she couldn’t hear him. Hoping to obscure Bellatrix’s aim, Tonks took them down through the clouds. Soaked and engulfed, she prayed they were still heading in the right direction, until - BANG - Tonks’ chin struck bone and she heard a crunch of wood. They’d slammed into someone, someone whose mask slipped off to reveal a face contorted in pain, who reached out to try and drag Ron onto their splintered broomstick. Ron flailed, managing to land a punch into Rodolphus Lestrange’s stomach whilst Tonks slashed the air with her wand, hissing a severing charm that made blood spurt from his shoulder. He began to fall and they zoomed past him, emerging out of the clouds. Tonks looked back to see Bellatrix arresting her husband’s fall with her wand, but without slowing her pursuit. The wailing in Tonks’ head resumed, louder and more excruciating than before.

“YOUR BODIES WILL BE FED TO THE ANIMAL YOU CALL HUSBAND.”

All was noise, pain, speed. There was only Bellatrix’s howls, the bruising bump of Ron’s spine against hers, the punishing wind raking at her hair. Tonks screamed, straining her throat, but nothing could overpower the invasion -

“AND WE’LL KEEP HIM AS OUR LITTLE PET.”

Tonks turned the broomstick so sharply it felt like it could snap, veering round to aim her wand at the awful, beautiful, ravaged face that was so like her mother’s.

“Avada Kedavra!”

She gasped the words, half-garbling them, and emerald light burst from her wand. Bellatrix’s face froze in fear, but the curse only lasted for a breath, dying before it reached her, and now it was hysterical laughter that ricocheted around Tonks’ skull. She lurched to avoid an answering death curse and pelted away, heading still lower. They were mere minutes away, so close to safety and so close to oblivion all at once: Bellatrix hurled curse after curse, any second she could catch them, any second...

“YOU’RE NOTHING.”

Her heart pounded, longing for decades instead of seconds. Tonks thought of her dad in his flour-dusted apron, offering her a bite of something hot and gooey; of her mother with a tender look on her face, pushing a strand of hair away from Tonks’ eyes; of Mad Eye and his grim nod that she carried with her like a talisman; and of Remus, Remus, forever Remus. A single thought battled for dominance as she flew, erratic and urgent, closer and closer: _I love you, I love you, I love you_...

“YOU’LL DIE NOTHING. YOU - ”

The voice fell silent. Tonks’ ear unstoppered and she could hear her own loud breathing, the swish of passing air, Ron’s voice as he asked her, “What happened? Where did she go?” Tonks looked over her shoulder, hardly daring to believe it. Bellatrix was gone. They’d made it inside the protective charms of Muriel’s house and, sure enough, she could see chimney smoke rising from a grand stone dwelling below them. Tonks slowed their flight and they drifted down onto the grass. Ron tumbled off the broomstick, tripping on his lengthening legs.

“We made it,” he said, panting. “We actually made it. I thought we were goners, for sure.”

Tonks was still breathing deeply. She leant forward, her hands on her hips, not able to take her eyes off the sky. She felt funny. Ill. Saliva gathered at the corners of her mouth like she was about to be sick.

“Not bad teamwork, eh?”

Alight with adrenaline, Ron’s pale face was bubbling as Harry’s features started to melt away. Tufts of red hair were bursting through the black. Tonks tried to clap him on the back, but only managed a limp pat on the shoulder.

“We wouldn’t have made it without you,” she replied. “Well done, mate.”

The horizon behind him was rippling, unfocused. Tonks blinked, swallowed, felt herself sway.

“Are you alright? You look a bit weird...?”

Ron’s voice sounded very far away. Black dots were collecting in Tonks’ vision. She dropped to her knees, only vaguely aware that she had done so, before tipping...tipping...

“Move out of the way, Ronald! Set her down!”

Tonks opened her eyes. She could see undone shoelaces belonging to a pair of muddy white trainers. Ron was propping her up by the shoulders.

“M’okay,” she said, getting one foot flat on the ground and using his hoody to drag herself up to standing.

“Fainted!” Muriel announced, folding her arms over a paisley blouse and looking down her beaky nose at Tonks. “Flying’s too much for some.”

“I’m a trained Auror, I can handle it,” Tonks snapped, irritable with dizziness. “It was probably just a fainting jinx that had a delay on it. Nothing to worry about,” she added to Ron who looked relieved.

“Well Miss _Trained Auror_ , you’ve missed your portkey,” said Muriel.

“Shit.”

“It wasn’t our fault!” Ron protested. “The Death Eaters attacked us! What are we going to do?Mum’ll be worried sick if we’re not back on time.”

“It’s alright. I can make us a new one.”

Tonks headed closer to the house and picked the first thing she saw up off the ground, a stone carved pixie.

“Not _that_ ,” said Muriel, snatching it out of her grip. “Can’t you see this is valuable? I don’t want this disappearing into the pigsty of Molly and Arthur’s.”

Clamping her lips shut, Tonks picked up a plant pot instead, unceremoniously upending it.

“What about the others?” Ron asked, chewing his lip. “Do you think they got away?”

“They’ll be okay,” she said, though fear was swirling her already upset stomach. “We’ll see them all in a sec.”

“Sure you’re up to it?” Said Muriel with a raised eyebrow. “Portkeys are difficult magic and you’re still green around the gills.”

Tonks ignored her. She raised her wand, holding the clay pot ready in her left hand. Muriel stared at the rings on her fourth finger and there was something sly about her gaze that Tonks didn’t like.

“Oh, so you’re married, are you? Interesting.”

“ _Portus_.” The pot trembled in Tonks’ hand and glowed bright blue. “Come on, Ron. We’ve got thirty seconds. Let’s get back on the broom.”

Ron nodded, white as a sheet under his freckles. They mounted together and rose slowly back up into the air, holding the plant pot between them.

“Why don’t you ask Molly to make you a cup of tea?” Muriel called up to them, with an unpleasant cackle. “Her best gravidic, with a dash of ginger, that might do the trick for what ails you.”

“What’s she going on about?” Tonks asked Ron.

“Dunno. Just trying to wind you up, probably. She’s a nightmare. Do you really think everyone else got back okay?”

The portkey took them by the navel before Tonks could reply. She squeezed her eyes shut, picturing Remus as he’d been earlier that evening - the love in his eyes, the golden light on his handsome face - until the crushing pressure lifted and they found themselves in a new sky. The higgledypiggledy tower of the Burrow was below them and, waiting in a line -

“It’s them!” Ron cried.

Tonks took the landing fast, spraying earth and pebbles in a wave as her heels skidded on the ground.

“Remus!”

She staggered off the broomstick and into his arms. She felt his chest slacken against hers as the breath left his lungs in relief and she squeezed him tight: breathing him in, savouring his solidity under her fingertips, letting the cold threat of oblivion and Bellatrix’s screeches for blood fade to memory. She broke away and looked around at the others. Harry, free of Voldemort’s clutches and safely delivered to the Burrow, was standing beside Kingsley and Ginny. Ron and Hermione were locked in a fierce embrace. Tonks grinned.

“Ron was great,” she announced. “Wonderful. Stunned one of the Death Eaters straight to the head, and when you’re aiming at a moving target from a flying broom - ”

“You did?” Asked Hermione.

“Always the tone of surprise,” said Ron, a little grumpily. “Are we the last back?”

“No,” said Ginny, “we’re still waiting for Bill and Fleur and Mad Eye and Mundungus.”

Tonks’ grin faded and she watched Ginny run up the back steps to fetch Molly and Arthur with renewed fear. Bill and Fleur had never duelled in flight before, what if...but it was too horrible to contemplate...just days before their wedding...Tonks ran a hand through the wet spikes of her hair. She comforted herself with the thought that Mad Eye had been heading North too: he would be there to protect them.

“So what kept you? What happened?” Remus demanded.

“Bellatrix,” she told him, jolted by the repressed fury she saw in his eyes, “she wants me quite as much as she wants Harry, Remus, she tried very hard to kill me. I just wish I’d got her,” Remus narrowed his eyes at this, “I owe Bellatrix. But we definitely injured Rodolphus...then we got to Ron’s Auntie Muriel’s and we’d missed our portkey and she was fussing over us - ”

Remus nodded, but his body was rigid, his face strained. She wished she could hold him, but knew he wouldn’t want her to - not like this, not in front of the others. She dragged her gaze away to address Harry, Hermione and Kingsley.

“So what happened to you lot?”

They recounted their stories and Tonks began to piece together what had happened - why the Death Eaters had stopped chasing them, how they’d figured out which Harry was the real one - but crucial gaps still remained. Everyone’s heads kept flicking to the skies, distracted and oppressed by the continued absence of Bill, Fleur, Mad Eye and Mundungus.

“I’m going to have to get back to Downing Street,” Kingsley said after a while, looking grave. “I should have been there an hour ago. Let me know when they’re back.”

He disappeared through the garden gate. Soon after, Molly and Arthur came hurrying out of the back door and wrapped Ron up in a hug.

“Thank you,” said Molly, looking from Remus to Tonks. “For our sons.”

“Don’t be silly, Molly,” Tonks said, quickly.

“How’s George?” Remus asked.

“What’s wrong with him?” Asked Ron, as Tonks shot Remus a questioning look.

“He’s lost - ”

But a great gasp from Hermione made Tonks turn around. A thestral was landing neatly on the grass, bearing an uninjured Bill and Fleur.

“Bill! Thank God, thank God - ”

Molly seized him in an embrace as soon as he dismounted. Tonks flashed Fleur a smile before tipping her face back up to the sky, waiting for Mad Eye and Mundungus to appear next.

“Mad Eye’s dead.”

It was Bill who’d spoken. Tonks frowned at him. That wasn’t right. They hadn’t seen Mad Eye yet. They were all still waiting for him.

“We saw it.”

Fleur was nodding and Tonks noticed the tracks of tears on her cheeks. She extended a hand to Tonks and squeezed her fingers, but Tonks only blinked confusedly back at her. They were being stupid. Mad Eye wasn’t dead. Tonks wanted to ask them what the hell they were talking about, but there was a pain in her throat. She turned away and looked back at the stars instead. Sweat dotted the small of her back though it wasn’t a hot night.

“It happened just after we broke out of the circle: Mad Eye and Dung were close by us, they were heading north too. Voldemort - he can fly - went straight for them,” Tonks’ knees trembled, she remembered the ghastly face she had seen, the bag of bones flying through the night, “Dung panicked, I heard him cry out, Mad Eye tried to stop him, but he disapparated. Voldemort’s curse hit Mad Eye full in the face, he fell backwards off his broom and - there was nothing we could do, nothing, we had half a dozen of them on our own tail - ”

Tonks hated Bill’s tears, couldn’t stand the choke in his voice. She looked at Remus, wanting him to deny it, to say something that would contradict Bill and return logic to the world, but instead -

“Of course you couldn’t have done anything,” he said.

Tonks couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Even when the others began to retreat towards the house, she stood firm: it could have been any curse that Bill saw, she wasn’t going to give up on Mad Eye, she would never give up on him...

“Dora...”

Remus put his arm around her shoulders, applying a gentle pressure, but she resisted him. Someone had to stay behind to wait. Someone had to be here for him when he got back.

“He’s not coming, Dora.”

Remus pressed a handkerchief into her hand and pulled her more firmly. When her feet started to move, it felt like a betrayal, an admittance of the impossible, and pain shuddered through her. She couldn’t look at anyone inside, only sank her face into the handkerchief. Her shoulders shook, her nose was streaming, tears were dripping off her chin, but no noise left her. Nothing made sense. She didn’t understand how she could be so silent when her chest felt like it was caving in, when a war of denial raged inside her head even as her whole body wept out its loss. She just wanted to speak to him; to be in his gruff, jumpy presence; to see that smile, always given against his better judgement, always just for her. It couldn’t be real. He couldn’t be gone. A glass floated into her hand. Firewhisky.

“Mad Eye,” said Bill.

Tonks raised her glass, barely able to see through her swimming eyes, and brought it to her lips. She couldn’t taste it, the liquid burnt her tongue and she spilt it down the front of her robes. No one noticed. She reached out, trying to grasp Remus’ hand, but found nothing there. He was on the other side of the room, not even looking at her. His eyes were blank and his glass was drained. He was about to speak.


	6. The Weight of Air

**Chapter 6: The Weight of Air**

The body was gone. Taken. Hours of searching had yielded nothing.

Remus flew through the empty skies and gradually slowed to a floating halt. The wind slipped inside his robes, parting them, penetrating through the holes in his jumper to his skin. He didn’t move, he wanted the chill to overwhelm him, to seep down into his bones until its numbing pain was the only thing he could feel. Perhaps then he wouldn’t remember the hot blood that had lashed his face when George was hit. Or the disgust on Harry’s face as Remus entreated him, his best friends’ son, to become a killer. Or the fact that there was a spy, a _rat_ , in the Order of the Phoenix once more. “So Mundungus disappeared?” he’d said to them all in the kitchen, expecting them to heed his meaning. But they hadn’t, they’d chosen trust instead.

None of them understood. They weren’t there the last time, they couldn’t see what Remus could: that trust wouldn’t save them, that their numbers would keep falling one by one, that the slide into entropy would become steeper with each passing day; inevitable as the turn of the moon.

“ _You think I’m a fool?”_

_“No, I think you’re like James, who would have regarded it as the height of dishonour to mistrust his friends.”_

What Remus hadn’t said was that James’ honour had been worthless in the end. Honour had meant nothing when death arrived at his doorstep in Godric’s Hollow, it hadn’t soothed his passing when, in those final wandless, breathless, seconds all he knew was that his wife and baby would soon be next; that all he’d lived for would be dust in the ground. Remus no longer needed to imagine how James had felt. He’d felt it himself at the sight of a rusty oilcan lying in the grass, Tonks’ portkey returned without her: a terror upon terror, a grief that could burn a city to the ground, a dawning comprehension that made him want to rend at his own skin. He had fooled himself into believing that he could protect her but the truth lay, cold and inanimate, on the ground at his feet.

Remus closed his eyes. His broomstick was so light on the wind that he felt weightless, just a heartbeat on the air. He thought of Mad Eye. Fighting one moment, gone the next: quick, painless, pure, sacrificing himself for the cause he’d dedicated his life to. There would be no more war for him now, no more striving, no more grieving. To slip backwards off a broomstick and into nothingness didn’t seem so very tragic when considered in that light. It didn’t even seem difficult.

“Still no sign of him!”

Remus jumped a little. It was Bill.

“The Death Eaters may have got there first,” he replied, as gently as he could manage. “Or the Ministry.”

Bill’s hair had fallen loose. He stared, red-eyed, out at the night. “I wanted...I wanted to do this for him at least...”

“You did everything you could, Bill. No one could ask for more.”

Bill sniffed and patted Remus on the shoulder. “Thanks mate. I appreciate it. Are you alright? You knew him longer than any of us.”

“I’m fine.”

———

It was past two in the morning when Remus apparated to the cottage’s boundary zone, but yellow light still blared from its only window out onto the dark heather. He pushed open the front door and found Tonks sitting in the middle of the floor. Her pink hair was plastered around her wet eyes and she was surrounded by reams of photographs. She let out a gasp of relief and held out her arms, Remus crossed the room and knelt to embrace her.

Her voice was throaty with phlegm. “Did you - did you find him?”

“No.”

She wrapped bitter fists around his robes. “They’ve taken him then. They’ve got him.”

“Dora,” Remus looked at the scattered pool of pictures, “what have you been doing? It’s late. You should be in bed.”

Her chin crinkled. “I - I’ve lost it.”

“Lost what?”

“The only photo I’ve got of me and him...from my last day of Auror College...I - I can’t find it anywhere...”

“I’ll help you,” said Remus, pulling out his wand.

“You can’t. It’s hopeless. I’ve tried summoning it, but it’s gone....I’m such an idiot...”

Remus held her tighter and her body shuddered in a sob. “Shh,” he kissed her hair, “it doesn’t matter.”

“It does! It does matter!”

“A photograph is only a reminder. There are years of memories living inside this head,” he whispered, stroking it.

Her tears dripped down his neck and under his collar. He rested his face against hers, rubbed her back, spoke soft things to her, but a strange anger was rising up inside him: Tonks deserved better than the life she was living, the life he and Mad Eye had allowed her to throw herself into.

“I didn’t say goodbye...I didn’t even say good luck or anything proper at all...I just acted like it was any other mission...so stupid...”

“It’s the whole that matters, not the end. Besides, Alastor was never one for grand displays of affection, was he?”

He dotted away two tears on her cheek with his fingertips. Her lips trembled into a smile.

“He’d probably’ve told me off if I got soppy with him,” she said before lowering her voice into a scratchy impression, “‘a misty-eyed Auror is a dead Auror!’”

“Exactly.”

“But...” Tonks shut her eyes as fresh tears seeped between her eyelashes, “I never told him...never told him...”

“He knew, Dora. He knew.”

Remus finally coaxed her into bed and they lay there together, unsleeping, their fingers interlinked.

“I argued with Harry,” he whispered, after a long time had passed.

“What?” She rolled onto her side to look at him. “What happened?”

He told her everything.

“You were right,” she said.

“Was I? To tell Lily and James’ sixteen year old son that he should become a killer?”

_Like me_ , he thought but didn’t add, thinking of the two souls he’d cast from their broomsticks that night.

“They killed Mad Eye,” said Tonks, gripping his hand so tight that his knuckles clicked, “and Dumbledore. And Sirius. And so many others that the sun would come up before I could even finish saying all their names. They get their kicks out of murder and abuse and the most fucked up things imaginable. I heard Bellatrix’s plan for our family from her own mouth tonight, she was trying to torture me with it. I wasn’t ready to hear what you said to me back when we stood over Bill in the Hospital Wing, but I am now. Mad Eye only advocated killing in the most extreme circumstances but if right now’s not extreme, I don’t know what is. We’re going to win this war, I know we are, but only if we’re willing to do whatever it takes. Whatever it takes. They’ll destroy us otherwise.”

There was a look in her eyes Remus had never seen before. The blue of her irises looked black in the darkness of the room. He dreamed of flying that night, flitting in and out of wakefulness, confusing the sheets around him for the rushing of air. It was still dark when he jerked awake. The night felt ceaseless, it filled his semi-conscious mind with a childish fear, but Tonks was there. She wrapped him in the sweet comfort of her arms and kissed him. He tasted salt on her cheeks, but she wouldn’t let him speak, only sucked at his lip and pulled him closer, wild and silent. He would have thought himself to be dreaming again if not for the pinpricks of pain that were her nails scraping down his back, for the decentering surge that was his pleasure as he took her.

When he woke up in the morning, he sat bolt upright with his pulse beating so hard in his neck it was almost painful. How could he have been so stupid? He half-fell out of bed, disorientated by his nakedness, and dragged on his clothes.

“Dora,” he shook her shoulder, “wake up.”

She moaned and hid her face.

“Wake up. Please. We have to leave.”

He ripped back the curtain, but the lumped outline of Tonks beneath the sheets didn’t move. He stared out of the window, scanning the landscape and the skies: no one there. Yet. He began casting spells, opening every drawer in the cottage and expelling their contents, folding and shrinking every book, dress, blanket, shoe and flinging them into packing boxes.

“Dora! I’m serious.”

She wriggled her head out from the duvet. Her face was wan, her eyelids swollen as she blinked around at the chaos.

“What’s going on?”

“This address is one of the Order’s emergency reserve locations which means it’s known by every single one of our members. We can’t stay here.”

Tonks pushed herself up on her hands. “But...I thought we all agreed last night...it doesn’t seem likely there’s a spy. The Death Eaters knew we were moving Harry, but they had no clue about the polyjuice. Harry himself said - ugh...”

Tonks groaned and rubbed her stomach, only one leg out of bed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Feel like crap,” she said, leaning forward, “like I’m gonna be sick.”

Remus went quickly to her side. “A curse?”

“No...feels more like I ate something dodgy and washed it down with a bottle of vodka. Dunno what’s wrong with me.”

“Grief,” said Remus, his own stomach twisting to see her suffer, “it can do strange things to the body. I’ll make you an anti-nausea draught but then - and I’m sorry, Dora, I really am - we must go.”

He hurried to the kitchen cupboards and began sorting through the potion ingredients, sending the majority of them clinking neatly into boxes, shaking drops of the rest into a mug.

“Can we just pause for a second? I don’t think think anyone would betray us, not even Dung. He just chickened out, that’s all.”

Remus didn’t reply. He swirled the contents of the mug until it turned the correct shade of mallard green, sent it floating across the room to Tonks, then immediately began stripping their wedding photographs from the wall.

“Remus! Just talk to me, will you?” Tonks gulped down the potion then pulled her wand out from underneath her pillow and sent one of the boxes skidding away from him. “We can add more security enchantments, take more precautions. We don’t have to leave.”

“I won’t let them find us. I won’t put you in more danger than you’re already in.”

Remus summoned the duvet but Tonks seized it and tugged it back. “We can’t just up sticks and leave.”

“We have no choice.”

“This is our home!”

Again, Remus didn’t reply. The room was a flurry of flying objects, whizzing faster and faster around him.

“Stop!” She yelled. “Just stop for a second! Where the hell are we going to go?”

“I don’t know, Dora!” He snapped. “I don’t know! But I won’t be naive - not this time! I may not how or by whom, but the Order of the Phoenix has been compromised somehow and that’s enough to tell me that this house will no longer keep us safe. So unless you want to join me in some Death Eater cellar at the next full moon, I suggest you help me pack.”

He turned away from her. His hands were shaking when he brought them to his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

He heard her get up and pad slowly towards him. He didn’t have the strength to look at her. She was ill, she was grieving, and he was forcing her out of her home with nowhere to go. Throwing themselves on the charity of their friends or of Tonks’ parents was unconscionable, but the expense and paperwork of renting was impossible. It was exactly how his father had warned him it would be.

“We’ll find somewhere,” Tonks placed her small, soft hands on his back and leant her forehead against his spine, “I’d live with you at the bottom of a well if I had to, remember?”

She span him round by the shoulders. Her brave face broke his heart.

“We’ve just got to think, that’s all. All we need is somewhere safe to live. It can’t be that hard - wait - what - ” Tonks twirled on the spot, “can you hear that?”

“I can’t hear anything.”

“It’s Mad Eye!”

“What?”

“It’s Mad Eye! He’s speaking to me!”

“Dora, I really don’t think - ”

“It’s not inside my head! I can literally hear him! He’s in the room somewhere.”

Tonks stepped backwards, her head moving frantically at all angles, until she gasped and pounced on her robes from the night before. She rummaged in the pockets and drew out a small, electric blue stone and held it up to her ear.

“I - I think he slipped this into my robes before the mission. Can’t you hear his voice?”

“It’s just for you.”

“I don’t understand what he’s saying. Sounds like... ‘Tay’ and then... something beginning with ‘D’. ‘Tay Door Ha?’ What the bleeding hell does that mean?”

“I have no idea. Could it be a place?”

“It must be,” Tonks was a little breathless, turning the stone over in her fingers, “its sort of... pulling away, like it’s trying to take me somewhere.”

“You heard the voice just after you said we needed somewhere safe to live.”

Tonks gaped at him. “You mean...?”

“Mad Eye had been worrying about Bellatrix tracking you down ever since we reunited. He must have known we’d need a safe house one day.”

“Yeah...just like he knew that if the mission went wrong, you-know-who would go for him first...”

“And that any official will would be likely to pass through the Ministry of Magic before reaching you.”

Tonks clutched the tiny gem to her chest, tears springing to her eyes. “Always three steps ahead, Mad Eye. That’s why he was the greatest. The greatest Auror of all time.”

Mad Eye’s bequest seemed to galvanise Tonks and they cleared the rest of the cottage in minutes. Remus took the boxes outside without a backwards glance and began readying the broomsticks. Tonks tripped on the doorframe on her way out, three grindylow cages floating behind her at wand tip.

“Those are best left behind,” Remus told her.

“But...are you sure?”

He nodded. When he’d finished attaching the loads, he mounted his broomstick and held hers hovering at his side. Tonks was staring at the empty cottage. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew her tears had returned. Somehow, against all the odds, she’d been happy here.

“I thought we’d have longer than three weeks,” he said, quietly.

“Three weeks?” Tonks turned around, blinking. “That’s how long it’s been?”

“About that, yes. But we should really be going - ”

“We’ve been back together a whole month?”

Remus pushed her broomstick to make it fly towards her. She placed a palm on its hilt, but seemed barely conscious of it.

“Blimey...I didn’t think...That flew by, didn’t it?”

“Dora.”

“Right. Sorry!”

She shook her head and swung herself up onto her broomstick. She was silent as they rose into the sky. Remus didn’t allow himself to take one last look, but that didn’t stop the memories from flooding in: Albus Dumbledore taking a sip of tea before asking him to become a professor; Sirius turning from dog to man, hugging Remus on the doorstep; Tonks laughing in his arms as he carried her over the threshold. He glanced at her - pale, lost in thought, Mad Eye’s legacy clamped in her fist to lead their way - and his resolve turned to steel. The Death Eaters could torch the old place for all he cared, so long as she was safe.

———

Two hours later, they descended down through the clouds and into thick woodland. The trees were so tightly packed they had to use their wands to part the thick, lichened branches. They landed in a patch of brambles, leaves tumbling down onto their heads. The air was cool and damp beneath the canopy. There had been no sign of a dwelling from the air and it took Remus a few seconds to notice the house. It looked as though it was being consumed by the forest: ivy snaked across its front and the surrounding trees leaned to embrace it, their roots merging with the brickwork. A sign above the door read _Taigh Dorcha_.

Tonks groaned.

“It’s not so terrible, is it?”

She let out a laugh, but Remus noticed that she was holding her stomach again. “No! My tummy’s still a bit dippy, that’s all.”

“It’s my fault. Potion making isn’t my forte at the best of times and I was rushing when I prepared your draught - ”

“Don’t fuss. I’m alright.”

They both stared at the house.

“You know, if Mad Eye had ever told me he had a secret safe house in the woods, this is exactly what I would’ve pictured.”

“It’s...well...” Remus wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. “Let’s get you inside. You should drink some water, eat some breakfast if you can manage it.”

Tonks dismounted, stumbling a little amongst the thorns. “Let’s check out our new home sweet home.”

Despite her smile, she seemed distracted as they picked their way towards the front door. Remus knew she must be comparing this morning with the joy of their first day together in his cottage, but he didn’t know what to say to comfort her. Tonks passed through the invisible security barrier with ease but Remus had to be invited before he could join her. Once within the boundary line, they waded through a lush crop of stinging nettles to analyse the security spells. Apart from the absence of a Fidelius charm, it was as impenetrable to intruders as Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

The living room was dark. Ivy pressed against every window. _Lumos_ revealed a cracked brown leather sofa, bookcases lined with broken-spined volumes on defensive magic, a blank foeglass gleaming like the surface of a lake and five dormant sneakoscopes that cast strange shadows on the walls. Tonks crossed the dusty floorboards and squeezed past the sofa towards a table at the back of the room. She picked something up and let out a low noise, beckoning for Remus to join her.

“Here it is! I can’t believe it. I gave it to him for his birthday - I completely forgot!”

Remus looked at the photograph in her hand. A younger Tonks beamed, dressed in impeccably new black Auror robes and proudly tweaking the silver clasp at her neck. Mad Eye was stolid at her side. His magical eye was the only part of him moving and it stared out at the real Tonks and Remus as if he knew they were watching him. There was a message scrawled in the top corner. Tonks brought it to her face, squinting.

“‘Don’t wind up as dead as me,’” she read out.

She buried her face in Remus’ chest with a laugh that was also a sob.

“That’s enough of that,” she said when she eventually pulled away, mopping her face with a sleeve. “Let’s have a poke around.”

The kitchen, too narrow for two to stand abreast, was lined on all sides by cupboards. Behind every little door was an overflowing collection of jars - pickled food, preserves, potions with scrawled-on labels, dried ingredients, ointments - all of which Remus pulled out and studied. Tonks wandered back to the living room and Remus heard the tread of her boots on their way upstairs. He began to follow her, but stopped when something caught his eye: a low metal door, hidden in the shadow of the staircase. He had to push it with his shoulder until it screeched open. The smell of the air told him immediately that it was a basement. Remus followed a dozen steep steps down into its depths, as dark as the ocean floor. He placed a hand on its thick, damp wall.

“Thank you, Alastor,” he muttered, soundlessly.

Upstairs, a poky landing was lined with three doors: the first to a bathroom, the second to a box room with a huge pewter cauldron at its centre and the third to a large room that was empty but for a bed frame. Remus stepped into the latter and pushed open a delicate sash window through which to summon their packing boxes. His mother had always believed in unpacking for the bedroom first. “It helps make an unfamiliar place feel like home,” she would say.

The floorboards creaked overhead. Tonks must have been exploring the attic.

“Oh!” She cried out. “ _Riddikulus_.”

Hearing that word was like watching the moon emerge between clouds. Remus stared at the ceiling. What was it that she saw? He asked himself the question, knowing he would never have the courage to ask her. His own boggart passed unbidden across his memory: Tonks splayed on the floor, blood bubbling at her throat, weak hands trying in vain to staunch mortal wounds, betrayal in her eyes. He leant his head against the window, suppressing the urge to smash it. This place wasn’t a home, it was a war bunker. No one else could know of it, no one else could come. Tonks was trapped here with him, this monster she had chosen. He slipped his cold hand down the back of his shirt, feeling the tiny scratches that her nails had left the night before, wishing they were the only scars he had.

————-

Remus called for an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. It was held at midnight in the Weasleys’ kitchen. With Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny sleeping upstairs, Molly and Arthur had to place such thick layers of silencing and imperturbable charms on the walls and ceiling that the room appeared to ripple, every voice within it rendered flat and echo-less. Fred and George, only informed of the meeting two minutes before it began so they wouldn’t alert their younger siblings, sat yawning at the long kitchen table; George’s ear wrapped in a clean white bandage. Ted chatted with Arthur about their mutual acquaintances at the Ministry. Andromeda sat beside her husband, polite but unreadable, her dark eyes taking in every detail of her surroundings. Mundungus was absent.

Fleur gestured for Tonks to sit down next to her. “I must speak wiz you about my flowers.”

Tonks laughed. “Flower arrangements aren’t really my bag, you know.”

“No, listen,” Fleur took her hands, “many of my friends from France are not making ze journey this week. They are too afraid, you know. They are sending flowers for my bouquet instead - daisies from Marguerite, chrysanthèmes from Lucie. I remember ze lovely crown you made for your wedding from ze photo you showed me. Would you lend me one of those little blue flowers? We are the two Order of the Phoenix brides, you and I - that makes us connected, I think.”

“Course I will,” said Tonks, giving Fleur a squeezing hug. “I’ll bring one the next time we come for dinner.”

The room fell steadily silent and it wasn’t long until everyone assembled was looking at Remus expectantly. It was time to do what he must.

“Let’s get started. Firstly, I’d like to welcome our two newest members: Ted and Andromeda Tonks,” Ted tipped his glass in Remus’ direction, Remus smiled stiffly back before continuing, “When Dumbledore was alive, we initiated our newcomers with phoenix fire and impressed upon them the grave nature of their decision to join us. But, like his master, Fawkes has moved on - and I know you are both already intimately aware of the risks inherent in joining our ranks. So, all that leaves is for me to thank you for what you have already done for us.”

Tonks watched as the rest of the Order shook hands with her parents across the table, resting her chin on her hand.

“Now, it would be remiss of me not to mention the immense loss we suffered last night. The Ministry of Magic may not acknowledge it and the Daily Prophet may not deign to mention it, but every one of us assembled here knows that the world would be a far darker place today if not for Alastor Moody. Every day of his life, Alastor exemplified the spirit of the Order of the Phoenix. Duty, self-sacrifice - ”

“Paranoia,” said Fred.

“Fred!” Molly’s eyes flashed dangerously in her son’s direction.

“Call it that if you wish, Fred - you’re not wrong - but if there was one thing Alastor would want us to remember, it would be this: no one can afford to be complacent in war. The Death Eaters know how to seek out and exploit even the slightest crack in our ranks. It is vigilance, not faith, that will carry us through. With that, let us move onto our first item to discuss. I’ve been honoured to serve as your temporary leader, even if only for a matter of hours, but,” Remus saw Tonks narrowing her eyes at him, but he avoided her gaze, “it is time for us to select someone to step forward permanently.”

A chorus of confused protest followed his words -

“But of course you should lead us, Remus!”

“What are you talking about?”

“We’re looking at him, mate!”

But it was Tonks whose voice rang out the loudest, “That’s you, you pillock!”

“I’m flattered by your confidence in me, truly I am, but I’m not the right person to lead the Order of the Phoenix.”

Tonks flung her head back, as if appealing to the ceiling for strength.

“Remus,” said Molly, leaning forward towards him, her eyes kind, “you’ve been far too modest for far too long. There’s no one better suited than you.”

“Molly’s right,” said Kingsley. “You’ve served in the Order for both wizarding wars. You have the experience, the skill - ”

“ - and you ‘ave ze trust of everyone ‘ere!” Fleur finished.

“Mad Eye chose you,” said Tonks.

“As his second, not as - ”

“The second’s _meant_ to take over when the leader kicks the bucket,” said George.

“Yeah, that’s the whole bloody point!” Said Fred.

“Perhaps we should let Remus speak for himself,” said Ted.

Remus nodded in thanks. “I appreciate all of your kind words, more than I can say, but what it comes down to is that I am simply not fit for the job. A leader who suffers from - from,” he caught Andromeda’s eye by accident and felt his cheeks growing hot, “exhaustion and sickness as regularly as I do is a risk in itself. But that’s far from the only reason. The Order of the Phoenix is the only organised resistance to Voldemort’s regime and, as such, we cannot let ourselves be perceived as a fringe group. We need a figurehead who can inspire loyalty and recruit new members from across every corner of wizarding society. We are a fighting force, yes, but if we win this war, we will need to be a political force too. The shadow of the Death Eaters’ ideology can only be lifted by a leader who everyone - not only those in this room - can believe in.”

Some of the faces around the table looked thoughtful, some worried, some a little guilty. Only Tonks remained incredulous.

“Why pander to the rules of bigots? The Order of the Phoenix is about tearing down that old bullshit, not cooperating with it!”

“Whatever your opinion, it is my decision to resign the position in favour of someone more suitable.”

Tonks slammed her hand down on the table. “Mad Eye chose you. Does that mean _nothing_ to you?”

She was staring at him like there was no one else in the room. It was only Remus who felt the collective stare of their audience like a vice around his throat. To his shame, it was Andromeda who spoke next.

“If Remus doesn’t want the position, it’s not right to try and force it upon him.”

Tonks looked furiously from her mother to Remus and back again, lost for words.

Arthur sighed. “I agree. I think it best that we respect his judgement. Is there anyone you’d like to propose in your stead, Remus?”

“Yes. There is a member of our group who I would not be shocked to see become Minister for Magic one day. Kingsley, I believe you would be the ideal choice.”

Kingsley’s steady brown eyes met his. If he was surprised by Remus’ pronouncement, he didn’t show it.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

“I am.”

“In that case...” Kingsley looked around at each of them in turn, “if you select me to lead the Order of the Phoenix, it would be the honour of my life. I fought only for the Ministry in the last war. I was too young, too ambitious, to recognize the Auror Department’s limitations. I saw myself as a Ministry man through-and-through, rejected what I saw as Mad Eye’s vigilantism. It wasn’t until the worst excesses of Crouch and his ilk became blindingly obvious that I realised I’d made a terrible mistake. Now, if you’ll let me, I’ll dedicate myself to leading us through this war. If I manage to display even a fraction of Dumbledore’s spirit, or Mad Eye’s grit, or your steadfastness, Remus,” Remus dropped his eyes, “I’ll count myself very lucky.”

“Well said,” said Bill.

“I do have one condition though,” Kingsley continued. “I’ll need a second to run things while I’m tied up in Downing Street. Remus, will you consider it?”

Something tightened like a string inside him, compelling him to say no. But he managed a stiff nod.

“Of course,” he said.

The room voted unanimously and so it was done.

But Remus could feel no relief, not when Tonks was looking at him the way she was. She didn’t put on a brave face to conceal it this time, she wore her disappointment in him nakedly. He wished he was back floating above the distant earth, feeling the cold air enveloping him; somewhere he couldn’t see that expression on the face he loved best, somewhere he could convince himself it wouldn’t be the last time he would let her down.


	7. Little One

**Chapter 7: Little One**

“Fine weather we’re having!”

“Mmm.”

Tonks didn’t trust her stomach enough to open her mouth. She kept it clamped shut as the lift rattled through the Ministry of Magic, whisking up her insides with every zigzag. Her knuckles had turned white from gripping the golden rope hard enough to keep herself upright.

“I went for a lovely walk out East yesterday. Along the canal,” Christabel Shelley of the Obliviation Department continued, bobbing on her heels. “Do you still live round that way, Tonks?”

“Mmhm.”

The lift reached the third floor and Christabel bounced out, casting a bemused glance over her shoulder. Finally alone, Tonks slumped against the wall and put her flask of anti-nausea draught to her lips. Only a few drops left. Useless stuff.

_What’s the matter with me?_

Grief. Stress. Exhaustion. They were messing with her system, that’s all it was. Bodies became fatigued from time to time, tummy’s went haywire, periods were late, it wasn’t unusual. There was no point getting carried away, worrying about irrationalities would only make it worse. Tonks forced herself to walk tall and left the lift at the second floor. The corridor was buzzing with voices and there was a small crowd gathered around the door to the Auror Office, odd for seven in the morning.

“‘Scuse me,” she tapped on the shoulder of a man on tiptoes at the edge of the group, “Oi - I’m an Auror, this is my office, let me through.”

The muttering crowd parted just enough for Tonks to squeeze through.

“ - but how did they get it in?”

“ - good grief, it’s horrible...just horrible.”

The first thing she saw was the look of disgust on Finlay Savage’s face. The second was the rope hanging from the ceiling above her desk. Tonks elbowed the final gawker out of her way.

A wolf. Dead and dangling, strung up by its tail, its grey face matted with gore from the drying waterfall of blood that had streamed from its cut throat and travelled all the way down onto Tonks’ desk. The wood was stained black, every piece of parchment was crimson, every feather quill was floating. A cloying, metallic smell coated the back of Tonks’ throat. The body was still dripping, fat drops oozing in an insistent spatter from the desk to the floor. She stared into the animal’s blank eyes. They were already clouded over. She wanted to touch it, to raise a gentle hand to what remained of its smooth fur, as if in comfort. It had been beautiful once. And free.

There was a note pinned into its side: _To Nymphadora Tonks, the Werewolf’s Whore._

“Don’t just stand there, gaping! Someone get the security team. I want to know how this got into our office,” Tonks glared at the onlookers and they began to troop out, “that’s it - clear off!”

She pulled out her wand to start checking for jinxes.

“I’ve already done that,” said Finlay, something like resentment in his voice. “There aren’t any curses or booby traps, it’s just...that. What does it mean, Tonks?”

“Do I look like I’ve got a bloody clue what it means? Just help me get it down, will you?”

She climbed onto a chair, but Finlay didn’t move.

“Auror Tonks.”

Tonks winced, trying not to grab the wolf for balance as she wobbled. She knew that voice.

“Morning, Minister.”

Rufus Scrimgeour’s grizzled mane filled the doorway. His nostrils flared at the sight of the dead wolf.

“Auror Savage, get rid of this mess. Auror Tonks, my office. Now.”

Tonks ripped off the note and stuffed it into her pocket, before following Scrimgeour out into the corridor. She breathed through her teeth, feeling light-headed, as they stood in silence in the rocking lift, her hand rubbing her stomach beneath her robes. The atrium hissed with whispers as they crossed the vast space towards a winding green marble staircase. Alone in his glass office, Scrimgeour narrowed his golden eyes and scrutinised her.

“Explain.”

“There’s clearly been a serious breach, Minister. Question is, are we looking at a break-in or was this an inside job?”

She was talking fast. Too fast. Scrimgeour flung up a hand. “Obviously there’s been a security breach, any fool can see that. I’ve got people looking into it. What I’d like you to explain is why, out of every other desk in that office, yours was targeted and what, exactly, that note is referring to.”

“I’m the only Auror with an aunt who is both a Death Eater and batshit insane, that’s why. She thinks she can scare me but she can’t.”

Scrimgeour’s whiskers trembled with impatience. “And the _wolf_ , Auror Tonks?”

“She’s got more than a few screws loose, what can I say? A badger would have made more sense but maybe she didn’t fancy her chances - nasty bite, I hear.”

“You think this is funny?”

“No, Minister. I don’t think a dead wolf suspended above my desk is very funny at all. But I do find it a bit ridiculous to try and find a logical motive for this. It’s a Death Eater stunt, designed to spark confusion, that’s the whole point.”

“Are you saying that you cannot think of a single reason why a wolf was chosen? I assume you read the note?”

“Just spit it out, Minister.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just ask me if I’m - what was it? - a ‘werewolf’s whore’ and get it over with.”

A purplish flush crept up Scrimgeour’s neck. “What I want to know is whether you are keeping dangerous connections. Dumbledore always held very different views about what kind of people can be trusted compared to what we at the Ministry believe. The werewolves have long-declared themselves for he-who-must-not-be-named and, despite the disintegration of their stronghold, they continue to act in allegiance to him. That is why we are cracking down, taking every legal avenue available to us to keep them in line so they understand they cannot get away with defying the government. You yourself faced werewolves not so long ago and yet - ”

“Werewolves aren’t a homogenous group, Minister. Greyback and his lot declared for you-know-who, yeah, but they don’t represent - ”

“AND YET,” Scrimgeour repeated, “you were seen at Dumbledore’s funeral by the side of a known werewolf.”

“You mean Lupin?

“Yes. Lupin. Are you and he in a,” Scrimgeour looked like he was sucking on a foul tasting sweet as he prepared to form the next syllables, “romantic relationship?”

Tonks made herself laugh. “Me and Lupin? You can’t be serious, Minister. Do we _look_ like a couple to you?”

Scrimgeour shifted in his seat. Tonks seized her advantage and continued -

“The way I see it, either the Death Eaters have got the wrong end of the stick about my taste in men or they’re just scraping the barrel to find ways to cause trouble for me. And it’s worked, hasn’t it? This is an awful lot of fuss and faff for a dead dog.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “I’m going to choose to believe you. But hear me now, fraternising with enemies of the Ministry puts every single one of your colleagues at risk and I will NOT have the Aurors sabotaged because one of their number is unable to distinguish lover from foe. If I find out you’re lying, you will be sacked.”

Tonks balled her fists under the table. “Let me get this straight, you-know-who’s getting stronger every day but the Ministry is more worried about its employees’ private lives than sorting out its own incompetency?”

“You are on thin ice, Auror Tonks. Very thin ice. I promoted you against my better judgement and ever since, you’ve been doing your level best to prove my first impression about you entirely correct: that you are too arrogant and insubordinate to ever be a successful Auror. I will _not_ warn you again.”

Tonks looked down at her lap and squeezed her eyes shut, wrestling with her temper. When she finally looked back up at the Minister for Magic, her voice was low.

“I’m one of the only people here you can trust.”

Scrimgeour’s mouth opened in surprise, but there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

“You’re in danger,” she continued. “They’re circling around you, getting closer and closer. Thicknesse is - ”

“I know,” he sounded tired suddenly, “I don’t need you to tell me.”

She leaned towards him. “Work with us more closely. Together we can - ”

“The only _us_ for you should be the Ministry,” Scrimgeour said, his face closing back up like a slammed book. “Do you understand? Now get out of my sight.”

———

Her rings beat against her chest as she tramped through the stinging nettles to the house. Four fruitless raids, three colleagues who refused to look her in the eye and one accidental apparition to the Yorkshire cottage later, and she couldn’t stop herself slamming the door.

Remus looked up from his papers, his smile dying as soon as he saw her. “What’s wrong?”

She tried to shake off her robes, but got stuck inside one sleeve. Giving up, she flumped down onto the sofa.

“Has something happened?”

She had to blurt it out, “Scrimgeour threatened to sack me.”

Remus sank into the seat beside her as if his legs had given way. “Does he - does he know? About us?”

“No, but he’s suspicious. He asked me outright and I had to deny it.”

She tipped her head towards Remus’ shoulder, craving his counsel, his comfort, but he stood up and she keeled sideways. Words began pouring from him - “my fault...”, “...I should have known...”, “just as my father warned us...” - as he paced back and forward in front of the fireplace. He wasn’t looking at her and Tonks felt irritation prickle up like a rash as she watched him.

“You know what would be great? If - just this _once_ \- you didn’t make everything all about you.”

Leaving him frozen in place, she stomped upstairs to the bathroom. She disentangled herself from her robes, pulled her jeans and underwear down to her ankles and sat on the toilet, scrunching her hair in her hands. She didn’t have to look down to know that not a single drop of blood fell to stain the water. The paper came away white. She flushed, washed her hands, dunked her face in cold water, and stared at her dripping reflection.

_You’re stressed,_ she told herself. _It happens. The thing you’re worrying about is impossible._

She leant on the sink, breathing deeply and trying to squash the rising sensation of claustrophobia in her skin. Screwing up her face in the mirror, she watched as a gentle colour infused her cheeks, taking away their pallor, and her hair bounced to her shoulders in warm, plum waves. Those long months of yearning, of wandering wraith-like through Hogsmeade, wearing her body as the proof of her failure, were all behind her now. She’d come face-to-face with her old self in the attic, but one word and Boggart Tonks’ grief-stricken mousey-haired head became framed by a pair of floppy rabbit ears and they’d both laughed. Her body was hers to control. It obeyed her. She knew every inch of it.

_My period will come. I won’t get sacked. I’ll make Remus happy again._

She heard his tread on the landing. “Dora?”

She opened the door and there he was - tall and narrow-shouldered, sunlight from an ivy-covered window dappling one half of his face, tiny corkscrews of wool springing loose from the same jumper he’d worn on the day they’d met - her best friend, her lover, her husband; worth every risk, every worry, every ounce of strength she had to spare.

“Sorry for being a mardy bum,” she said.

“You weren’t. Not at all. I know what that job means to you and I should have let you talk through what happened yourself. I panicked. I was wrong.”

“Scrimgeour won’t kick me out. It’s an empty threat. He needs every ally he can get and he knows it.”

“But what prompted him to ask you in the first place?”

Tonks hesitated, picturing the limp wolf’s lolling tongue, the needle through its skin, Bellatrix’s curly handwriting. “I - I dunno. Maybe they got Thicknesse to start a rumour. Scrimgeour might not like me very much, but he trusts me enough to take me at my word. Me and him just don’t really click, we never have. I’m too gobby for him.”

“You’re outspoken, you aren’t afraid to speak your mind. Some people can’t handle that kind of bravery. It scares them.”

Tonks reached out and closed her fingers around the hem of his jumper, tugging him towards her.

“Not you though,” she whispered, looking up into his face.

His hands moved to her waist. She leant up and kissed his jawbone, the corner of his mouth, his bottom lip.

“Listen, Dora...” his voice was soft but his eyes were pained, “I know I haven’t been doing very well recently.”

“Don’t be daft.”

“It’s the truth, you know it is. I let you down last night.”

“Not that again,” Tonks sighed and Remus’ hands dropped slowly back down. “I don’t want to keep going round and round in circles. I thought we agreed to disagree last night?”

“I want you to understand - ”

“But I do! I understand your point of view, believe me I do, it’s just that...well, I understand my point of view more. You’re the one Mad Eye wanted to lead us because he knew, same as me, that you’d be great. But there’s no point rehashing the same argument over and over. You’ve made your decision and I’ll just have to get over it.”

“I’m sorry that I...that I haven’t been...”

“What?”

“A very good husband to you so far.”

A noise escaped Tonks before words could and she seized him, her hands squeezing his shoulders.

“No, Remus, no - look at me - you are everything to me, you’re the only person in the world for me, you’re my stupid, stubborn, _brilliant_ husband. And yes, you drive me up the wall, but that’s only because you refuse to see yourself the way I see you.”

“It’s difficult, I - ”

“I know. I know it’s difficult. But we should be able to talk about stuff without it leading to you spiralling into crisis mode and doubting yourself again.” She pulled out the chain around her neck and slipped off her rings, pushing them back onto her finger and taking Remus’ hand. “Me and you are the only thing that makes sense in this fucking bin fire of a world, alright - don’t forget that.”

He lifted her hand and kissed it, then drew her closer, resting his face against hers, without speaking. She stared at him close-up, wondering when exactly that old sadness had crept back into his eyes; when that wall she once thought she’d shattered in the library of Grimmauld Place and again in the Hogwarts Hospital Wing had bricked itself up again. She’d run out of words, so she kissed his lips, her hand stroking up the back of his skull.

Desire was its own language and Remus’ desire was always honest, always comforting, always sweet. His hands didn’t hesitate, pushing beneath her t-shirt to travel over her bare skin, and his tongue met hers without uncertainty. There was truth in the way he pressed her, gentle enough for tenderness, firm enough to set a fire in her belly, against the peeling wallpaper; truth in the subtle smile he gave her as she giggled, undressing for him; truth in the slide of his knowing fingers, in the moan of longing he couldn’t conceal. He knew her body as well as she did, he took his time to make her nerves sing, to make her melt. When he allowed himself to finish, she held his face and locked his gaze: he was desperate, his fingers gripping the flesh of her thighs.

—

That evening was sunny and beautiful.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” said Tonks, hugging him.

The meadow outside the Burrow was bedecked in celebration. Purple lanterns floated in the shape of a glowing number seventeen, streamers were draped over the trees and bushes and every leaf on the crab apple tree shone gold. Tonks grinned as a giant snitch birthday cake was set down on the table, so large the legs almost buckled. Seventeen really was very young, Tonks thought, but there was something in the way Harry looked around at them all that seemed anything but. It was a protective sort of gaze, heavy with a perceptiveness she’d never noticed in him before. She found his presence strangely comforting.

Charlie Weasley tipped his chair back to look over at Molly, who was hovering by the gate beside a woman Tonks was sure could be none other than Fleur’s mother.

“Wish Dad would hurry up and get here. Mum’s getting edgy.”

“I think we’d better start without Arthur,” Molly called back to them.

Tonks was ravenous. But before her hand could close around a warm French stick, a streak of silver light shot across the table. A weasel, with Arthur’s voice:

“Minister for Magic coming with me.”

Remus gripped her wrist, hard, and rose before Tonks could generate a solid thought.

“We shouldn’t be here,” he said, yanking her up, “Harry - I’m sorry - I’ll explain another time - ”

Tonks searched for Bill and Fleur so she could shout them good luck for the following day, but all she could see was a blur of colour as Remus dragged her into a run. Together they climbed over the fence and disapparated from the resplendent fields to the sylvan shade of _Taigh Dorcha_. Back indoors, Tonks crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, forcing the disappointment out of her expression.

“One day we won’t have to run and hide, you know.”

Remus didn’t reply, only turned towards the kitchen to begin fashioning a dinner out of Mad Eye’s old tins.

————

Tonks woke with a low groan. The nausea was back, worse than before, and she cupped her bloated stomach; blinking around at the dim bedroom. The sun had only just risen and she was dog-tired. Yesterday’s confidence had deserted her and her heart beat furiously, ridiculously, as she ran her hand below her waistband. She arched her back a little and probed with her fingers but she knew, even before she withdrew them to check, that no reassuring blood had come. It was the morning of the first of August and - Tonks’ head began to throb as she worked it out - it was six weeks since her last period. The returning sickness had brought something new with it: a sinking dread.

She rolled into a ball and tucked herself close to Remus, her nose at the nape of his neck. Dots of sweat were gathering on her lower back and her breaths came out shuddering. _It’s not possible_ , she told herself, _you’re being an idiot, getting yourself worked up_. She focused on Remus’ still frame, his quiet breathing, the familiar smell of him, entreating the sickness to pass. She was so tired, her mind was drifting, images wandered through it as her tummy spasmed, she was trying to think of something, something she’d missed, something she’d forgotten -

Fleur’s bouquet!

Her eyes flicked wide open. They’d left Harry’s dinner too early to give Fleur her lupin flowers, but there was still time. Tonks crawled to the edge of the bed. She managed to stand without incident, but had to double over in order to dress herself. She summoned her most comfortable bra without asking herself why. Before she left, she looked down at Remus who was sleeping the deep sleep he fell into when the nightmares spared him. She kissed his cheek, her lips grazing the slight stubble, wishing him the same peace when he woke up.

Seconds later, she was clinging to the Weasleys’ fence as every half-digested remnant of the previous night’s lentils churned out of her in waves. Her throat stung with acid as she stared down in horror.

“Good heavens! Tonks?”

Tonks vanished the vomit from the grass, her shoes and the stringy ends of her plum-coloured hair, and straightened up to see Molly hurrying towards her. Her hair was pinned in spinning rollers and she wore a dressing gown topped with a gingham apron.

“Are you alright? Have you been sick?”

“Me? No! No, of course not.”

Molly gaped at her. “I could have sworn I saw...well...never mind then - what on earth are you doing here so early?”

“I, um, I forgot to give these to Fleur yesterday,” Tonks pulled the pair of, mercifully unsplattered, blue lupins from her pocket. “Could you give them to her? I’ll chip off - I don’t want to get in your way, you must be - ”

Tonks’ guts twinged and she gripped the fence again.

“You can’t disapparate in this state! You’re not well!”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, come inside,” Molly opened the gate and beckoned for Tonks to follow her, “I’ve been up early with the canapés and Arthur’s off sorting out the marquee, but the rest of the house is still in bed. I’ll make you a quick remedy before you go.”

“I don’t want you to go to any trouble, Molly. Nothing seems to work on me.”

Molly put her hands on her hips and appraised her. “I might have something that will. Come on now.”

The smell of pastry and onions made Tonks feel light-headed. The kitchen was in a mania of activity at the command of Molly’s wand: knives flashed and danced on the counter, cutting French cheese into squares; rolling pins rolled themselves backwards and forwards; balloons inflated themselves, their strings forming neat bows. Tonks dropped into a chair and rested her forehead on the table.

“There you go,” said Molly, setting a mug down beside Tonks’ ear. “Give that a try.”

Tonks held her face over the ginger-smelling steam. The taste was bitter but, the more she swallowed, the better she felt: her seizing stomach relaxed, her nausea faded, the smell of the cooking canapés became appetising.

“What is this stuff?” She asked, drinking deep to drain the last of it. “It’s amazing.”

“Oh, that. I used to drink it all the time,” Molly smoothed her apron and sat down in the chair opposite, “it’s just a simple gravidic, but I like to improve it with a dash of ginger. It’s...well, it’s really the only thing for morning sickness.”

The mug thudded onto the table out of Tonks’ fingers. She laughed an odd laugh, nothing like her usual.

“Molly! You’ve got the wrong idea. I’m not...” she couldn’t say the word, “I’m not.”

“Are you sure? I mean...I didn’t want to say anything before but you have been looking a little peaky recently and Muriel mentioned something about - ”

“I’m not. I’m definitely not. It’s physically impossible. It’s - it’s a physical impossibility.”

Molly’s cheeks grew pink. “Oh. You and Remus haven’t been...? Not that it’s any of my business of course!”

“What? No! I mean, yes! We have been. We have been _constantly_. Every bloody day, we have been.”

Molly’s eyes twinkled. “Goodness me. That may have done the trick.”

“No! You don’t understand! We’ve been protected this whole time, I’ve got the charm, you see - the full works. Its foolproof! Even a dingbat like me can’t get it wrong, that’s the reason I got it in the first place.”

“Perhaps I’ve got grandchildren on the mind, what with the wedding and everything, but...are you sure you don’t have any other symptoms?”

Tonks squirmed. “I - well - it’s not a big deal, but my period’s a bit late. I figured, y’know, it’s just stress. Stress can do that, can’t it?”

Though the room continued its frantic activity and Molly’s wand twitched rhythmically in her hand, she stared at Tonks like there was nothing else on her mind. “I don’t want to alarm you, dear but...has your charm _definitely_ been working?”

The tea had cured her sickness, but Tonks was starting to feel a different kind of ill. She bit her lip. She didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to think about it; she should never have started this conversation, she should never have come.

“It can’t just stop working, Molly,” she said, almost coldly.

“It’s rare, of course, but...charms like that can get interfered with,” Molly replied, her tone even gentler than before.

Tonks shook her head. She wanted to leave.

“What about that time you spent in St Mungo’s last year?”

Tonks shook her head again, her hair flying around her face. She kept shaking it even as her hands rose to cover her mouth and the blood started pounding in her ears, drowning out whatever Molly was saying. She was no longer in the kitchen of the Burrow, but sitting on a hospital bed. She was jiggling her legs, desperate to be discharged, only half-listening as - what was his name? - Healer Frogly droned on and on. Mad Eye was alive, but Sirius was dead, and Remus was going to be at Kings Cross Station, and Tonks wasn’t paying attention. Healer Frogly told her it was very important, but she wasn’t paying attention -

“NO!”

“I’m only trying to help, Tonks - ”

“No, no, no, no, no, no!”

Tonks pulled at her hair, her fingers breaking knots, because now, instead of Healer Frogly saying the words “ _complete magical strip_ ”, she could see Remus - with hair wet from the shower, jerking beneath her on the bed in Hogsmeade; with sandy-skin, euphoric beneath the open stars; with a desperate look in his eyes as his fingers gripped the flesh of her thighs - and she could feel that pulsing flicker between her legs, the clueless delight she’d felt in it, so many many times.

“Oh no, oh fuck. Oh Merlin, please. No. No, no, no, no, no.”

She couldn’t breathe. She slid off the chair and onto the floor, pushing herself along with the heels of her boots until her back hit the wall.

“Tonks!”

“I’m so stupid, I’m so stupid, I’m so stupid.”

Molly was saying something, but Tonks was gone, fallen into a storm, words babbling unconsciously out of her mouth until Molly’s wand delivered a hard rap to her nose.

“Stop this silliness,” she said, pulling Tonks to her feet. “There’s only one way to be certain.”

Molly opened a cupboard and leant so deep inside it that she was swallowed up to the waist. After a noisy rummage, she withdrew, holding a box striped with pastel colours - baby colours, Tonks realized and cringed, covering her eyes.

“Bill would laugh at me if he knew I’d bought this only last week. But you just never know, do you? Give me your hand.”

Tonks flung it out and felt her finger pricked and squeezed. Molly emptied a hard paste into a mortar and used a pestle to grind it together with the blood. A powdery smell rose up from the mixture.

“That smell takes me back! I haven’t done this in over sixteen years!”

Tonks kept on shielding her eyes, but she was aware of movement, of Molly shaking the mixture up in a bottle and then, with a flourish, casting its now-liquid contents into the air.

“Oh, Tonks! Look! Look!”

She peered through her fingers. Silver globs of mixture were forming a shape.

“What does it mean?”

“Can’t you tell?”

Tonks blinked stupidly at what looked like a bean bobbing in the air. “What the hell is that?”

“You and Remus are going to have a baby!”

Molly wrapped her up in a hug. Tonks went limp, gaping over Molly’s shoulder. It wasn’t real.

“This is tremendous,” said Molly, holding her by the shoulders.

“This is a disaster,” said Tonks, in a hollow voice, “this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

Molly pinched her cheek. “That’s just the shock talking. What a lovely thing to have happened - and on the day of Bill’s wedding too! If that’s not a good omen, I don’t know what is! Gosh, that happened quickly, didn’t it? No sooner did you two become a couple again then you became a family! You’re very lucky, it takes some people years to conceive!”

Tonks’ fingers tingled where they rested on her lower stomach.

“Remus is going to be such a wonderful father. Oh, imagine it, Tonks.”

“His head’s going to explode.”

“That doesn’t sound like our Remus one bit. It’s miraculous really, I thought his condition might affect whether he could...oh...” Molly’s face became serious, “would the child be...?”

Tonks didn’t respond, she was lost in a memory that gave her goosebumps:

“... _even_ considering _it would be out of the question.._.”

“... _you think I want a wailing little prune or a snotty child or a bratty teenager to look after? That’s not me._ ”

“A... _werewolf_?” Molly finished in a stage whisper.

“No,” Tonks snapped. “There’s only one way to make a werewolf and this isn’t it. But it doesn’t matter anyway.”

Molly nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. “You’ll love your baby all the same.”

The words tumbled out before Tonks had a chance to think. “Yeah, course I will,” she blinked rapidly, “I mean - wait - that isn’t what I meant...”

Her heart was swelling so fast in her chest it felt like it could crack a rib. She was frightened, more frightened than she’d ever been in her life.

“You’ll make a fantastic mum, you really will,” said Molly, squeezing her hand.

Tonks wrenched it back, shaking her head, choking on sudden tears. “Don’t say that. Don’t say that. I won’t be. I can’t do it. I don’t want it. I’ve never wanted it,” she jumped at the sound of movement somewhere upstairs, “I have to go, I’ll see you at the wedding, I have to go - ”

“Oh Tonks. There’s never a perfect time - ”

“I can’t. I can’t. I can’t do this. I’m sorry. Please don’t say a word to anyone, not even Arthur, please. I have to go.”

She ducked under plates, balloons and centrepieces, bashed her shoulder against a cabinet, and burst out of the back door, skidding down the steps and breaking into a run. She sprinted for the boundary line, spraining her wrists as her hands collided with the fence. She scrabbled in her pocket for her wand, then stopped. She couldn’t go home. Remus would be there. She couldn’t face him, not yet. She had to be alone. She had to think.

She started running again, her boots trampling wildflowers, her robes brushing butterflies, hardly noticing where she was going. She saw a little shed up ahead and made for it, weaving through the chickens to wrench open the door. Inside, there were even more chickens: they squawked and clucked all around her, their feathers flying, their wings beating up the dust.

“Bugger off!” She shouted at them.

They bustled out of the coop and into the sunshine. Tonks collapsed onto the dirt floor, leaning against something huge concealed under a sheet.

_I could go to St Mungo’s right now. I could put on a fake name and a fake face and Remus would never need to know._

The thought gave her a chill. She bent her head and hugged her knees. She wouldn’t lie to Remus, but it was her mess, her mistake, her own treacherous body. The responsibility to choose was hers and hers alone.

_I’m an Auror. A soldier. I can’t carry a baby in a body meant for fighting._

She’d sworn herself to the war, to her two pillars of the Order and the Aurors, she couldn’t stay at home, getting more massive and more useless everyday whilst her friends laid down their lives.

_I’m not mother material. I’d bump the poor mite’s head, swear in front of it, let it run riot._

She wasn’t Molly. She didn’t know the first thing about mothering. Shit and mess and screaming, that’s what babies were. Defenceless, ungrateful guzzlers.

_I wouldn’t be Tonks anymore. I’d just be ‘mum’._

She couldn’t surrender herself, couldn’t lose her will and her independence to a baby, she couldn’t do it.

_The world’s too fucked-up to bring a baby into. It would be marked for death the very moment it came howling into the world, the child of a werewolf and a blood traitor -_

“No,” Tonks spoke out loud.

She would never label it the way the world would. It would be itself, first and foremost. It wouldn’t be the child of a werewolf and a blood traitor, but the child of Remus and Tonks.

_Our child._

Tears were blinding her, but she let them fall, let them patter down onto the dust between her legs. She tried to imagine Remus’ reaction. He’d throw out words like ‘unworthy’, he’d wound himself with insults, he’d be completely terrified. But his fear wasn’t all-powerful. It never had been. Togeher, they’d overcome so much already. He was the bravest person she knew. Molly was right, he would be a wonderful father: so patient, so clear-eyed, so kind. He was meant for it. And she could find a way to still be herself, to still fight, she knew she could. There was nothing the two of them couldn’t do if they clung tight to one another.

Stop. What the hell was she thinking? How could she even _consider_ something as mental as this? She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Remus she never wanted to have children, but...that wasn’t the question, was it? The question was whether she wanted _this_ baby, here and now, this tiny enigma that had dropped into her life, the accidental result of one curse and one miraculous love; this clump of cells that was asking her whether or not she would let it grow.

Tonks mopped her face with her sleeve and noticed, for the first time, what it was she was leaning against. She tugged at the sheet and it came away in a dusty cloud smelling of rubber and petrol. Her dad must have sent it to the Burrow to be repaired: Sirius’ motorbike. She closed her eyes, rested her head against one of its enormous black tyres and hugged herself - holding her still-flat pregnant belly as it quietly worked on its hidden revolution.

The future. That was what they were fighting for. Becoming a three was the ultimate leap of faith, an irresponsible, insane jump into the unknown. Tonks had never hoped for it, never planned for it, but a new kind of love had begun to make its home inside her; so bright and new that it made her gasp, made her forget every question mark. One day, a little bundle would lie in her arms and she would see Remus smiling down at it. Their war baby, their new human, their cry against the darkness. Her heart was big enough for another extraordinary love and so was his.

She was frightened and calm. She was alone and not alone. She touched her cheek to the wheel that had once belonged to their lost friend, thinking of her silent passenger; her dear, uninvited guest which waited, curved like a prawn with a tadpole’s tail, biding its time until the day they would meet. Baby Lupin-Tonks. Their little one.


	8. Vortex

**Chapter 8: Vortex**

It was approaching two o’clock by the time Remus forced himself to return home, but still he hesitated at the front door. The forest teemed with life, sunlight penetrated every gap in the knotted branches overhead and descended in airy shafts around the house, but its eery beauty did nothing to move him. He’d woken to an empty bed that morning and his heart had felt leaden ever since. The second he turned the door handle, he heard boots drumming down the stairs on the other side.

“Where in the name of Merlin’s matching sock have you _been_?”

Tonks leapt the final three steps. She was wearing a purple velvet party dress. Wild blond hair spiralled to her waist and her eyelids sparkled with gold sequins. He felt winded by the very sight of her.

“I - I met with Kingsley in London. Didn’t you get my note?”

“Yeah, but you’ve been gone hours! We’re 'sposed to be at the wedding in ten minutes! There’s no time left!”

“What do we need time for?”

“Um…I dunno, I just wanted to see you! You took _ages_.”

“I left a note, at least,” Remus replied, coolly. 

Tonks didn’t seem to notice his tone. She was jittery, brushing the grain of the velvet on her stomach one way and then the other.

“Crumbs, there’s…there’s nothing for it…” she muttered absently, “we’ll just have to go and…when we get back…” she started bounding back upstairs again, her boots leaving a trail of straw and dust as she went, yelling at him over her shoulder, “come and change!”

Remus stayed where he was, wishing she could understand without him needing to explain. He couldn’t go to the wedding. He couldn’t immerse himself in a crowd of strangers who would probably call for an evacuation if they knew what he was, nor could he stand in public by the side of a woman who anyone could see far surpassed him. Tonks had disappeared into the bedroom, so he had to call up to her:

“I’ve been thinking that it might be best if I bow out. If Scrimgeour was to hear of my attendance, it could lead to more trouble for you at the Ministry. I can walk the Burrow’s boundaries instead, keep an eye on things from the outside.”

The floorboards creaked, but Tonks said nothing.

“Dora?”

Remus sighed and went upstairs. He paused in the bedroom door to see Tonks swivelling in front of their long, black-spotted mirror, her hair prickling with static every time it brushed her dress.

“I was saying, perhaps I shouldn’t - ”

“I heard you, Remus, I just didn’t want to dignify that twaddle by arguing back to it. You’re coming to the wedding,” she pulled the robes he’d worn to their own out of the wardrobe and threw them at him, “end of.”

She twirled, wobbled, pulled faces at the mirror. _My wife_ , he thought: watching her, yearning for her, as if two metres were two thousand miles. Making love to her was the only time he felt free - he craved it - but even in its ecstatic consummation, he felt its transience. One day her fire for him would dim and his desire would no longer thrill her. She was becoming more and more preoccupied and Remus knew why: she was starting to notice the cracks in their shared life, to realise that everything he’d warned her about was steadily coming true.

“Don’t look so glum. Please,” said Tonks, grabbing his hands and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Today’s a good day. A big day. A really blooming massive day.”

“You look very beautiful.”

She grinned. “That’s more like it. Come on, get a wriggle on - you know how much Bill and Fleur want you there. Besides, I think we’ve earned the right to cut loose for a day, haven’t we? Everything’s been so…so mad recently…” she swallowed, seeming to lose her train of thought, “um - and you’ll get to see Harry! I know you’ve been wanting to speak to him for ages…”

——

Tonks gripped his hand like she knew how much he wanted to withdraw it. The meadow outside the Burrow was heaving with people. He hadn’t been around so many since his long months in Greyback’s encampment. Here, instead of brushing shoulders with his fellows, naked and filthy from writhing awake on the cold ground at dawn, everyone was dressed in lavishly adorned robes and hats topped with birds, laughing like there wasn’t a war on, oblivious and whole.

They saw Arthur, his cheeks flushed with excitement and the top of his head already shining with sunburn. “With the curly hair, doing the ushering with Ron. Call him _Barney_ ,” he murmured to them as he passed.

But Remus would know Harry anywhere. He recognised his mannerisms and his little ticks even when Polyjuiced into the skin of another boy. Standing at the entrance to the marquee, he was shifting uncomfortably in ill-fitting robes but, as he surveyed the gathering guests, his eyes still carried that look of wonder he hadn’t quite grown out of. Molly was right. Seventeen was too young. Harry was still wedded to the spells and ideals of his childhood - he’d proved as much on the night of his delivery to the Burrow. They couldn’t expect him to carry Dumbledore’s burdens alone. He needed guidance.

“Wotcher,” said Tonks when they reached him, “Arthur told us you were the one with the curly hair.”

Harry smiled and, glancing multiple times at the seating plan in his hand, led them into the marquee and up a purple-carpeted aisle.

“Sorry about last night,” Tonks whispered to him as they went, “the ministry’s being very anti werewolf at the moment and we thought our presence might not do you any favours.”

Harry looked directly at Remus when he replied, “It’s fine, I understand.”

He saw the question in Harry’s gaze, but there was too much to say and all he managed in return was an inadequate smile. Remus led Tonks along their row and took his seat at the far edge.

“You’d better hold on to that one, Lupin!”

It was Molly’s Aunt Muriel, smirking at Remus over her shoulder as she followed Ron to her row.

“We can’t have her upstaging the bride by fainting in the aisle, now can we?”

Too bewildered to respond, Remus looked at Tonks, expecting her to deliver some sort of barbed comeback, but none came. She only scowled at Muriel’s back, fiddling with the flowers that dressed the chairs in front of them, an uncharacteristic blush warming her cheeks.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing. Old bat thinks she’s hilarious, that’s all. Look, there’s Bill!”

Bill stood tall, beaming and winking at the final guests as they took their seats. For the first time since the night of the attack, Remus found it difficult to look at him. Bill’s face wouldn’t be marred by teeth and nails on his wedding day if Remus had killed Greyback when he’d had the chance. He glanced at Tonks to see her twisting strands of hair around her finger - nervously, he thought - but before he could ask her another question, a hush fell and music began to lilt out of the golden balloons beside Bill. Tonks twisted in her seat and squeezed Remus’ thigh.

“Here she comes! What a knock-out!”

Tonks watched Fleur progress up the aisle, but Remus watched Tonks: how her breath fluttered the yellow frizz of her hair, how her cheeks formed into little balls when she smiled.

“Our lupins, look,” she said, elbowing him.

Fleur’s delicate hands dripped with flowers and Remus saw the long blue flutes from Tonks’ wedding crown bobbing amongst them. He hoped they wouldn’t prove to be bad luck. When Fleur reached Bill, the ceremony began.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls.”

Muriel began a loud commentary from her seat a few rows in front of them (“Yes, my tiara sets off the whole thing nicely…”) and Remus found it difficult to concentrate on Elphias Doge’s officiating. Tonks must have fainted at Muriel’s house and neglected to tell him. Perhaps that was the real reason she’d missed the portkey. Clearly her encounter with Bellatrix had been worse than she’d been willing to admit - to him, at least.

“Do you, William Arthur, take Fleur Isabelle…?”

Tonks’ knee was bobbing up and down next to his. Remus wanted to stop it with his hand but didn’t dare to in plain view. In what felt like no time at all, Doge was flourishing his wand triumphantly for the final pronouncement.

“Then I declare you bonded for life!”

A waterfall of silver stars engulfed Bill and Fleur. The golden balloons exploded and birds of paradise soared from the remains, flying with shimmering wings around the marquee. Remus remembered the moment he and Tonks had become husband and wife: there had been little fanfare, and even less of an audience, but he’d felt the change in his heart - a tremor of joy that ran too deep to fully comprehend - and thought he’d seen it in Tonks’ face too. But as he watched another couple pass across that same border, he felt nothing of the solemn exhilaration he’d experienced that night in the Scally Wizzbee. He knew, but hadn’t let himself acknowledge at the time, that he and Tonks’ marriage was not only a joining, but a severing too: the cutting away of her safe tether to society. Remus felt a little dizzy as he joined in with the applause that greeted Bill and Fleur’s kiss.

“Ladies and gentlemen, would you please stand up?” 

The walls of the tent vanished, leaving only a canopy overhead that was supported by shining poles. Liquid gold smoothed itself over the ground to form a dance floor. Tables popped up from nothing and a band took to a newly-erected stage.

“I’ll be right back - I’m bursting for the loo.”

Tonks darted away into the smiling, handshaking masses. Remus hovered, waiting for her to return. A white-robed waiter offered him drinks from a tray and he took two glasses of champagne, feeling the bass pound in his chest as the live music started in earnest and the dancing began. The torpefying relief of the bubbles was irresistible and, before Remus even realised what he was doing, he’d drained both glasses. By the time he caught sight of Tonks zigzagging her way back across the dance floor, he’d replaced them with two new ones but Molly, twirling out of Arthur’s arms, intercepted her before she could reach him. Tonks’ face lit up in an expression Remus couldn’t read. Though her eyes looked almost fearful, she smiled a giddy smile and nodded frantically at Molly who flung her arms around her. When Tonks noticed Remus approaching, her smile faded.

“Congratulations, Molly. What a beautiful ceremony,” said Remus, trying not to sound as uneasy as he felt.

“Oh, Remus,” said Molly, pressing a damp handkerchief to her eyes, “come here!”

She gave him a crushing hug that made the drinks he was holding overflow onto his sleeves. Through Molly’s coiffed hair, he saw Tonks chewing her nails.

“Few too many sherries,” she said, steering him away as soon as Molly returned to dance with Arthur. “Mother of the groom, and all that!”

They stopped at the edge of the dance floor and Remus handed her a champagne. Tonks took a sip then immediately clapped her hand over her mouth. The liquid sprayed out between her fingers and the glass dropped to smash on the floor.

“Uh - oops…S-sorry!” She coughed.

“That wasn’t poisoned, you know,” said Remus, dabbing the front of his robes and drawing his wand to vanish the mess. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah! I, um, I might go for a pumpkin juice instead. Want to keep a clear head.”

“I’ll find you one. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tonks nodded, drying the damp strands of her hair with her wand.

“You seem a little…?”

“Over-excited! Party fever, you know.”

“Right.”

Remus finished his drink and went to find another waiter. On his return, he heard unfamiliar voices coming from the spot where he’d left her.

“TONKS?! No flipping way, is that you?”

“Tonks, you look gorgeous! Oh my god, it’s been _years_.”

Remus stopped short. The speakers were a handsome young man with a dark beard and patterned robes, a girl with intricate braids in a blood-red dress and a second man in a tailored muggle suit. They were surrounding Tonks and she was jumping up and down, hugging them each in turn. Remus began to retreat, melting away into the crowd, putting as many bodies between him and them as he could. He saw Tonks look over her shoulder, wondering where he’d got to, but she was a fool if she hoped to introduce him. None of them would speak to her if they knew what she’d done.

Bill joined them and the little group erupted into cheers. Remus watched from a distance as Bill took Tonks by the hands and waltzed with her, making her trip over her feet. She laughed and pushed him away, grabbing Fleur instead and spinning her in such a fast circle that their hair flew out in waves. He hated himself for staring but he couldn’t help it. This was how Tonks was supposed to live her life: uninhibited, surrounded by her peers, singing along to songs he didn’t know.

“Top up, Remus?”

It was Arthur, a bottle floating at his elbow.

“Yes, thank you - and congratulations. You and Molly must be delighted.”

“We certainly are. It’s been quite a day - quite a _month_ , to be frank. I think we’ve all earned the right to let off a bit of steam tonight!”

Tonks cajoled Fleur to throw the bouquet and Fred took a flying leap across the dance floor to capture it. Tonks doubled over laughing, Fleur stamped her foot, Fred dusted himself off and winked at one of Fleur’s cousins.

“Tonks certainly seems to be enjoying herself,” said Arthur, with a chuckle. “She deserves it after that horrid business yesterday.”

Remus frowned. He had hoped Scrimgeour’s threat wasn’t widely known.

“You heard about that?”

“The whole Ministry’s been gossiping about it, I’m afraid to say. Tonks is as tough as they come, but still - no one wants to find a dead animal on their desk first thing in the morning!”

“A…dead animal?” 

“Yes, that poor wolf. Butchered just to prove a point. Awful. You - oh!” Arthur straightened his glasses, alarmed by Remus’ expression, “Oh dear, I assumed you knew all about that! Well…Tonks has been exceedingly busy, hasn’t she? I’m sure she simply…forgot to mention it. You mustn’t let a spiteful stunt like that rattle you.”

“Right. Will you excuse me, Arthur?”

Remus walked away before Arthur could reply. He weaved his way through the crowd, the information breaking over him. An animal to remind Tonks of her animal husband. No wonder she was on the brink of getting sacked. Anyone who didn’t despise her must pity her. He told himself he shouldn’t be surprised that she hadn’t told him - she liked to keep her little secrets, to tell him her white lies, didn’t she?

Remus found an empty table and sat down, taking up a bottle of whisky that hovered past. He spiked the pumpkin juice he’d found for Tonks and swallowed it down, then refilled the glass neat. Hagrid stopped by, hiccuping his way through a story about Fleur and a Welsh Green; after him, came Luna Lovegood who chatted merrily about the tickling charm he’d once taught her and its effectiveness against dabberblimps; and finally an elderly man who spoke only in slurred French. None of them stayed long. Time slouched on into dusk.

Harry was seated at a far table, locked in conversation with Elphias Doge and Muriel, but Remus didn’t have the strength to face him. He couldn’t bear to see the expectation in those green Lily Evans eyes, knowing that he had only ever failed his best friends’ son. There was only one person Remus wanted to speak to. If he closed his eyes, letting the taste of the whisky overwhelm his senses until there was nothing but a heady storm between his temples, he could almost feel Sirius beside him. Almost.

Rainbow beams wheeled around the canopy like searchlights. The music grew louder and the ground pulsed beneath Remus’ feet. He caught sight of Tonks again. She was dancing, ardently, almost desperately, but her face was dreamy. She moved her body like she was alone, like she understood something no one else did. He stared and stared at her, trying to understand: whatever secrets she was holding, she didn’t look burdened - she looked electrified.

“There you are!” She cried on spotting him, squeezing through the chairs. "You’ve been hiding.”

“It didn’t seem like you needed me.”

Tonks raised an eyebrow and plucked the glass out of his hand, setting it down on the table.

“I know this isn’t your natural habitat, but I’m not going to let you get away with moping all night. Let’s have a dance, just me and you.”

He let her pull him to his feet and drag him into the fray. The air was humid and heavy with pipe smoke. Remus felt uncomfortably aware of his long limbs, his bony shoulders, his aching joints. Above them, moths beat their wings against the canopy, disorientated by the lights. Tonks laced her arms around his neck and he moved stiffly with her, the music sounding like noise.

“You should have had a wedding like this,” he murmured.

“I can’t hear you!”

Tonks leaned back in his arms and smiled at him. Remus shook his head. He wanted to fall into the deep blue of her eyes, to drown there and feel no pain. She kissed him, taking him by surprise, and he twitched away. There were too many witnesses, too many judging eyes. Tonks stopped dancing. She dropped her arms from around his neck and glared at him in exasperation.

“You have to be braver than this!”

They stared at one another.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” said Remus.

Tonks blanched. The lights flashed, changing her hair from pink to blue, to red, and back to blond.

“There is,” he said, having to raise his voice to be heard over the music, “isn’t there?”

She screwed up her face, looking pained. “Forget I said anything. Let’s just - ”

“Tell me.”

“It’s - something stupid - I - ” she said, looking round as a couple bumped into her, “I should have said something yesterday when I got home. Bellatrix, she - ”

“Sent a dead wolf to your office, I know. Arthur told me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What else?”

“What?”

“What else don’t I know?”

Her eyes widened. The confirmation of his suspicion was a cold feather down his spine.

“Tell me, Dora.”

“Not here!”

“I must know.”

“Not like this. When we get back - ”

“I won’t wait.”

She placed her palm on her forehead. Her chest heaved and a tiny trickle of sweat disappeared between her breasts.

“I was going to tell you straight away - I was, I really was - but you weren’t there when I got back and it took you so long to come home and then there wasn’t enough time. But I can’t tell you like this! I can’t! It has to be done right!”

“This is ridiculous. Come outside.”

She followed him away from the dancing bodies, past the tables and out into the dark meadow, where the air was sweet and cool and the only sounds were the thump of drums and the occasional wail of drunken singing. Remus turned to face her. She was breathing like she’d run a mile, her eyes were glassy and he could see tiny dots of fireflies reflected in her pupils.

“We’re alone now. Tell me what’s happened.”

“Oh blimey, my heart’s racing…” Tonks bunched up her hair in both hands, “I didn’t want it to be like this…not with you all drunk and cross - and me completely tongue-tied, making a pig’s ear out of the whole thing…”

“For pity’s sake, Dora - just tell me! I can’t stand this.”

She released her hair and it tumbled down over her shoulders and chest. “I made a mistake. Wait - no! That’s not the right way to…um…”

“What kind of mistake?” 

“Not a…not a _bad_ mistake. I thought it was at first, but I don’t anymore.”

“What kind of mistake?” Remus repeated through clenched teeth.

“Before I drop this almighty bomb on you, I want you to take a second and remember how far we’ve come. We’re bloody brilliant, me and you. We can do anything as long as we’re together and - oh bollocks, that sounds so cheesy! What I mean is, a year ago you’d never have been able to imagine what we are today, would you? The thought of us happily married would have terrified you witless. Well…now, there’s a new terrifying thing. A new _amazing_ thing. I think so anyway.”

“I don’t understand.”

“This morning I…” she closed her eyes then opened them again, “I found out I’m pregnant.” 

Remus flinched. He shrank away from her, his arms contracting around his body. But while his body reacted, his head remained calm: what Tonks had just said was ludicrous.

“That can’t be true.”

“It’s a lot to take in, my brain’s been in a spin all day!”

Remus slowly shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. What you’re suggesting is impossible. I know you’ve been feeling a little unwell lately, but it’s absurd to jump to a conclusion like that.”

“I’m pregnant, Remus. I am.”

“If I didn’t know you any better, I’d think this was some kind of cruel joke. You’re confused, Dora. It’s like I said to you before, grief can do strange things to the body, make you feel - ”

“No! I buggered up our contraception - ”

“That sounds highly unlikely. If it will set your mind at ease, we can purchase a test, but - ”

“I’ve done a test! I’m pregnant, up the duff, there’s a bun - ugh, what am I saying? Listen, what happened was…you remember how St Mungo’s didn’t know what spell Bellatrix had hit me with? Well, they did a full magical wipe on me as part of my treatment. Thing is, the Healer told me about it on the day I was discharged, but it must have gone in one ear and out the other - you know what I’m like with admin and I was so distracted that day, thinking about Sirius, and you, and how badly I’d let everyone down…”

The ringing in Remus’ ears had become white noise. When Tonks stepped forward to take his hands, gently pulling them away from his sides, she seemed unreal to him, an imposter. He blinked at her dumbly.

“I’ve thought about it and thought about it, and I know I told you I never wanted a baby, and I know it’s the most appalling timing, and I’m never going to be mum of the year, and you’re probably about to have a right royal freak out about becoming a dad, but I’ve made up my mind. We’re going to have a baby, Remus. It’s come to us by accident and it’s hardly bigger than a bean right now - only six weeks - but we’re going to love it, we’re going to love it _so much_.”

“I’m not able to father a child,” he said, slowly.

“You are,” Tonks squeezed his limp hands, “and for someone who thought they might struggle in that department, you were, um, remarkably efficient.”

Her smile disturbed him. No child could come from his cursed body, it was too abhorrent to contemplate.

“It can’t be mine.” 

“Give it time, it’ll sink in. I was the same, I kept thinking I’d stepped into the craziest dream of my life - ”

“Your protection charm gave me peace of mind, nothing more. Werewolves don’t father children. They don’t breed at all. It’s unheard of. I’ve never known of it, never even read of it happening.”

“Don’t use the word ‘breed’. Maybe it’s really rare, but clearly werewolves can have children, otherwise how - ?”

“There was someone else,” Remus breathed, light-headed with sickening relief as the sudden realisation hit him, “before the battle in Hogwarts castle.”

Tonks froze and her face distorted into a rictus of shock. “ _What_? Say that again?”

“Someone else,” he repeated, almost choking on the words. “Another man.”

Tonks pulled her hands away as if they’d been burnt and stumbled backwards.

“You’re not, you can’t be… Are you seriously accusing me of shagging someone else?”

“It’s alright, my love,” he whispered, his voice unnaturally high, “you can tell me. I won’t be angry with you. I was gone for such a long time and you - you were so lonely.”

“I could _curse_ you, Remus! I went through hell for you! I waited and waited for you!”

“You don’t understand, it would be better that way,” Remus pleaded with her, hope streaming out of him like blood from a wound, “ _anything_ would be better…anything…Dora, please…tell me…please…”

“It’s yours! The baby is yours!”

“No,” he staggered to the side, lifting an arm to block her from his sight, “please no.”

Tonks wasn’t splayed on the ground in front of him. She wasn’t drowning in her own blood, claws hadn’t ruptured her intestines, Remus hadn’t sunk his teeth into her, but the wolf had won all the same. The curse had gotten inside her: it had latched onto an unborn host who, from its very first innocent gasp, would be condemned to a life of pain - to _his_ life.

“If I wasn’t so fucking furious with you, I’d tell you how much of an amazing father I think you’ll be!”

“Not a father. No. That’s not the word for what I am.” 

Remus’ legs were on the verge of giving in. It was a fate worse than death to become like those he despised: wantonly sharing his curse, dooming another to share their body and mind with a fiend, allowing them no escape except the grave. All this time, he’d feared what he became at the full moon, but it wasn’t bloodlust that had ruined him, but human lust; not the urge to kill that had exposed him as the beast he was, but love - a love he was never meant to have for a woman he never should have touched. A monster could only beget monsters.

“I’ve become…like him…I should have known…it finds a way…always there…the curse…the curse…”

“You’re babbling, I can’t understand you - Remus, just stop and breathe for a second - ”

Tonks caught his flailing wrists. Remus shuddered at their skin’s contact and tore himself away.

“Don’t touch me, no - no, no, no.”

Her bottom lip was trembling. “I know it’s a shock, but - but it’s going to be okay. You’ve got to try and breathe. I need you to breathe. I need you.”

“What have we done?” 

“Don’t talk like that.”

Remus grabbed at his hair. “What have we done?”

“We’ve made a baby! That’s all!”

“How could you be so fucking stupid?” 

  
Tonks winced. She crushed her hands to her chest as if staunching a wound. He turned away from her. He wanted to start running, to fall unconscious, to plunge into dark water, but something struck his shoulder, making him sway on the spot: it was Tonks, sprinting past him back under the canopy towards the wedding party. She was yelling something and it wasn’t until Remus saw the silver lynx that he realised the word was, “Kingsley!” He took off after her, drawing his wand. The lynx landed in the middle of the parting crowd. Remus and Tonks skidded on the golden floor, reaching the patronus just as the band ceased playing and the huge silver cat opened its mouth to speak:

“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”

In the silence that followed, the air itself seemed to quiver. Remus heard a distant crackle high above and knew the protection charms were falling. There was a brief moment of suspension and then the screams rang out. He began casting shield charms, sending them soaring in all directions. Tonks did the same and together they shouted at the stampeding guests to flee. The ensuing cracks were deafening but they weren’t caused by disapparition alone: new figures were appearing in the chaos, wearing uniforms Remus had never seen before.

_They’ve come for Harry._

Remus frantically scanned the crowds, turning just in time to see Harry - holding hands with Ron and Hermione - vanish.


	9. Mrs Lupin

**Chapter 9: Mrs Lupin**

  
Feet firm against the buffeting stampede, Tonks flung up her wand arm and cast flumes of shield charms over the heads of the panicking guests. 

  
“Get out of here! Go!” She yelled at the blurring mass of bodies. 

  
A sudden wind barrelled through them, raising chairs and bottles from the ground to swirl in all directions. Tonks ducked, blinded by dust and spray. Scraping her hair out of her eyes, she looked up just in time to see the canopy ceiling crumple and explode: pale fragments drifting down onto the melee like snow. The very atmosphere itself seemed to sputter: the colourful lights were dying, the fireflies dropping to be crushed under foot. The might of the Ministry had turned the wedding upside down and now it was shaking it. 

  
Remus shouted in her ear, desperate, a crimson trickle of blood staining his pallid forehead, “Change your face! Do it now!”

  
Nothing, not the chaos engulfing them, not the shrieks lighting up the night, not even the soldier’s adrenaline surging through her body, could numb the memory of his last words to her; as if he’d carved them into her chest with a blunt knife. _So fucking stupid_. Wincing as a harsh white light drowned the scene, Tonks chose eyes, nose, cheek bones at random. The beam was jinxed and Tonks fought dizziness as she stared into it, trying to count the silhouetted figures forming a line before them: a dozen, too many to risk an open fight. 

  
Behind Remus and Tonks, someone - one of the twins, she thought - shouted, “Come on, we can take them!”

  
“Don’t give them an excuse to throw us all in Azkaban!” Bill shouted back, tussling to lower his brother’s arm. 

  
The light dimmed. Emblazoned on the breast pocket of almost every one of the intruders was the insignia of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, but that was the only part of their uniform familiar to Tonks. Silver-tipped boots peaked out from beneath black silk robes lined with emerald, wands were held in shiny black leather gloves and magically-reinforced helmets made every head identical. The only two Aurors present - Finlay and McDougall - glanced, a little uncertainly, at their gleaming new colleagues. A man, younger than Tonks, stepped forward from their number, his heels clicking on the golden dance floor. He had large eyes, hairless cheeks, and a hungry smile. 

  
“On your knees.”

  
No one moved. 

  
“On. Your. Knees.”

  
Scratching, needling fingers probed her ear canal and a splitting whine made her double over, though Remus stayed still and expressionless beside her. She heard the others hit the floor behind them and knew they must follow, though she despised the feel of the floor beneath her knees. 

  
“Wands where we can see them. One metre in front of you on the floor.” 

  
Tipping her hair to hide her mouth, Tonks whispered three words: the first created a duplicate of her wand, the second disillusioned the real one against the flesh of her forearm, and the third stuck it there. She slid the dummy wand obediently across the floor. The officers were too busy fingering their new badges to notice. 

  
“This wedding has been shut down by the Ministry of Magic.”

  
“Under whose authority?” Asked Arthur. 

  
“Mine. Obviously,” the young man snapped, “but it is for us, not you, to ask the questions. We’re hunting an individual suspected of murder and we have reason to believe that members of this gathering have information on his whereabouts.” 

  
“We don’t know any murderers,” said Bill. “You’ve come to the wrong place.”

  
The young man enunciated every syllable as if they were lines in a play. “I’ll be the judge of that. Harry Potter is a regular visitor to this household, is he not? Well, he is wanted for questioning about his role in the killing of Albus Dumbledore.” 

  
“Preposterous!” Molly cried. “I’ve never heard such an outrageous lie in all my life!”

  
“Be quiet, woman.” 

  
He flicked his wand and Tonks heard a muffled moan as Molly’s mouth clamped shut. Tonks twisted her neck to look round and saw that the hot rage rippling through her was shared by them all: Arthur was fierce behind broken spectacles, holding Molly tight by the shoulders; the twins and their friend Lee clenched their fists, knuckles clicking; Ginny, red-faced with fury, held the hand of a trembling Gabrielle Delacour; Bill and Fleur, glued at the shoulder, exchanged dark looks; Muriel thrust out her chin proudly, her flamingo feathers miraculously still intact; and Hagrid frowned so deeply that his bushy black eyebrows met in the middle. To Tonks’ relief, Harry, Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen. Flanked by two other officers, the young man began to swagger through them, as if every glare was a clap of applause. 

  
“Nobody leaves this place until we’re satisfied. Surrender to us everything you know about Potter. We want to know his habits: where he goes, who he sees, what he’s been getting up to behind the Ministry’s back.” 

  
They came to a leering stop in front of Fleur. Tonks’ wand grew hot against her skin. Remus’ right hand twitched towards his opposite sleeve. 

  
“The blushing bride. Not quite the wedding night you had in mind, is it princess?” 

  
Fleur spat out her reply in vicious French. The men laughed. 

  
“I think this one’s in need of some one-on-one interrogation, boss,” one of them said. 

  
“Can I volunteer?” Said another. 

  
“Oh, don’t worry - we’ll all get a turn.” 

  
The meadow echoed with shouts of outrage. Tonks and Remus sprang to their feet just as Bill - who had lunged for his wand - was thrown backwards. His spine jerked, his body contorted, his scars were bright white against his reddening face as he screamed in agony. Tonks tugged at her wand, but stumbled as the ground shifted beneath her feet. A crack like a fork of lightning broke across the golden dance floor and the young man wobbled, his _crucio_ breaking, his wand flying out of his hand to be caught by - 

  
“That’s enough!” 

  
It was Finlay. He held the disarmed wand aloft as McDougall lifted the quaking charm. The officers hesitated, unsure whether to point their wands at the Aurors or the seething guests. 

  
“Back on your knees, all of you,” said Finlay, his wand travelling over each of the wedding party in turn, “wands back down where we can see them. And you - ” he said to the young man, “you simmer down.” 

  
The young man marched towards Finlay, squaring his shoulders and jutting his face close to him. “Give me my wand back.” 

  
“We are the Ministry of Magic. We don’t cast unforgivable curses on innocents,” Finlay dropped his voice, “nor do we harass them, for feck’s sake. We’re here to investigate a murder. Get yourself and your men under control.” 

  
McDougall addressed the room, “There’ll be no more torture tonight. You have my word. None of you are under suspicion and, as long as you cooperate with us, this will all be over soon. If Potter is innocent, you have nothing to fear from telling us everything you know. If he’s guilty, I’m sure you’ll agree that he deserves the full power of the law upon his head. So, please…” he signalled with his hands for them to return to the floor. 

  
Slowly, warily, the Order obliged. Finlay handed the young man his wand back. 

  
“I outrank you, you know,” he snarled. "We all do. The Aurors are finished.”

  
Finlay and McDougall looked disturbed: despite their big words, they were outnumbered five to one and they knew it. Tonks’ knees began to ache. 

  
“Separate each one and record their names and addresses,” the young man barked. “Let’s start the questioning. They know where Potter is, I can smell it.” 

  
Kicking aside shards of disco ball and rolling champagne bottles, the officers approached them. Finlay peeled away and made for Remus and Tonks, but any relief she might have felt died as soon as a spark of recognition hardened into suspicion on his face. 

  
“You,” he said, looking down at Remus. “I know who you are.” 

  
“Then you should already know that nothing you can do will make me talk.”

  
Tonks elbowed him.

  
“No touching,” Finlay snapped. “What business does a werewolf have at a wedding?” 

  
“As much business as Aurors have peddling lies.” 

  
“You do know I could have you thrown in Azkaban with a click of my finger, don’t you?” 

  
“And I could stop you with as little effort.” 

  
“Try me, w - ”

  
“Alright, that’s it!”

  
Tonks morphed her face back to normal and stood up. Three stunning spells headed her way but she deflected them easily, pressing a warning hand down on Remus’ shoulder to keep him in place. Finlay gaped at her. 

  
“ _Tonks_? Wands down! She’s an Auror!” 

  
The young man snorted. “Her?”

  
“That’s right,” said Tonks, loudly, “and I’m officially placing myself on duty. I don’t like the way this investigation is being run.” 

  
“Unless you’ve got authorisation from the Minister or the Senior Undersecretary, you can get on your knees with the rest or you can get out.” 

  
“Metamorphmagi give me the creeps,” added a second officer. 

  
“I’ll handle this. She’s part of my department,” said Finlay.

  
“I can vouch for every single one of these people,” Tonks said under her breath to Finlay when the din of the questioners had risen enough for them to speak, “none of them have any clue where Harry Potter might be.” 

  
“You can’t possibly know that for sure. This is serious, Tonks. I know it sounds crazy, but new evidence has surfaced from the night Dumbledore was murdered and it’s all pointing towards Potter. But what are you even doing here? Why weren’t you at the meeting with Thicknesse?” 

  
“What meeting?” 

  
“Didn’t you get the summons?” 

  
Tonks shook her head.

  
“Why am I not surprised? Why can’t you…for once…?” But he trailed off, raising his eyes briefly to the sky, before starting again with a sigh. “Scrimgeour resigned. The pressure got too much for him. Thicknesse is the new Minister for Magic and he wants to speak to every Auror in person. Tonight. It would be completely unprofessional for you to join this investigation. You’d better report in.” 

  
“No,” said Remus. 

  
Finlay rounded on him. “Don’t you tell her what to do, werew - ”

  
“Shut up, don’t let the others hear you!” Tonks hissed, grabbing his arm. “Come with me.” 

  
She dragged him away from Remus towards a splintered canopy pole and onto the grass, casting a muffling charm in her wake. When Finlay looked at her, she saw the same disgust he’d worn when staring at the dead, bloodied wolf in their office. 

  
“It’s true, isn’t it? You and him?” 

  
She held his gaze, letting it confirm what her words could not. 

  
“What _happened_ to you, Tonks? What the hell went wrong?”

  
“There’s nothing wrong with me. I just never let the Ministry suck away my ability to think for myself.”

  
“There’s a difference between thinking for yourself and abandoning sanity altogether! The werewolves are in league with the Death Eaters, you can’t - ”

  
“The only ones in league with the Death Eaters are your new friends back there,” said Tonks, jerking her thumb in their direction. 

  
“I don’t like them any more than you do, but at least they’re on the Ministry’s side. Thicknesse appointed them himself.” 

  
“And who do you think appointed Thicknesse? Whose side do you think he’s on?” 

  
“Thicknesse was the natural choice of successor, so don’t give me your paranoid conspiracies, Tonks. You were right before, but not this time. The Ministry needs loyalty if it’s going to succeed in this war and I, unlike you, take my job seriously and intend to do it to the best of my ability.” 

  
“Protecting the innocent’s part of the job, isn’t it? So don’t let these thugs arrest anyone.”

  
“Your werewolf boyfriend included? He’s far from innocent, Tonks.” 

  
Tonks seized him by the shoulders knowing, somehow, that Remus was watching her. 

  
“Don’t be a bigoted twat, listen to me! We’ve been mates for years me and you, you’ve got to trust me on this.” 

  
Finlay backed away from her. “How can I trust you when you’ve been…with _him_ …it makes me sick to even think about it. The Tonks I was mates with would never be this gullible. He’s dangerous! He’ll only betray you. Better he’s in Azkaban than in your bed, poisoning your mind against the Ministry - ”

  
“ _Imperio_.”

  
She’d never cast the spell before, hadn’t known she was going to until it was already out of her mouth, but someone had to take her place; someone had to protect Remus, to protect them all, and what other choice did she have? _Whatever it takes to win_ , that’s what she’d sworn to Remus. Hot tingles shot from her brain stem, down her spine, her arm, and into her wand; as if her blood stream itself was fusing with the core. The anger faded from Finlay’s face. His brow relaxed. His mouth opened, blankly. She felt his will surrender to hers, like a slack string to be knotted into whatever shape she chose - then it twitched and Tonks heard a distant voice in her own head, get out, as he tried to fight her hold. But she was too strong.

  
_You will do everything and anything in your power to make sure that not a single person at this wedding is harmed or arrested._

  
She felt dirty when she lifted the charm, like she’d sliced open his skull and plunged her fingers into the wrinkled goop inside. 

  
“I’m sorry. I had to,” she whispered. 

  
Finlay left her and returned to the interrogations without a word. Tonks watched him go and met Remus’ gaze. The stare he gave her seemed bottomless. It made her shudder, made the wound in her heart bleed anew. She wished she could call out to him that their baby wouldn’t be a werewolf but, even if it was, she would love it as all-consumingly as she loved him; that she was heartsick and horrified and furious at him; that she was fucking terrified too. 

  
Tonks put her hand on her stomach, steadying herself. She couldn’t lose her job. The Order needed her on the inside. She unglued her wand from her forearm and Remus shook his head, understanding instantly, but Tonks wasn’t going to obey him. She disapparated home first, thundering through the nettles to wrench open the front door and summon her Auror robes. She fumbled with them, turning them upside down to tug them over her head, coins jangling onto the floor. Then she plunged back into the thin dappled moonlight of the forest and disapparated again, this time into an acrid-smelling alley in Whitehall. Breathing in petrol fumes and blinking at the glowing red light of the cabs, Tonks fastened her robes to hide her bare legs and made for the entrance to the Ministry of Magic. 

  
The atrium was dark, its umbra interrupted only by the candles in sconces which cast pale, dancing light onto the black liquid floor. Tonks pulled off her rings and slipped them into her pocket as she walked. She needed to steel herself, even with a baby in her belly; to find a way to convince Thicknesse of her loyalty. Tonks jogged up the snaking marble staircase, forgetting to knock on the grand mahogany door before entering. Like a pair of waxworks, two faces looked up from the desk in the centre of the room, surrounded by the lights of the city that sparkled through the enchanted glass walls. Thicknesse’s eyes were barely visible beneath the shadow of his forehead and his robes were as dark as the floor over which Scrimgeour’s body must have been dragged that very night. Dolores Umbridge, in contrast, seemed to glow a pastel pink hue. 

  
“I must admit,” Umbridge began, “I’d heard rumours of your poor time-keeping, but you appear to have outdone yourself this evening. The Aurors were summoned to report before the Minister hours ago.”

  
Tonks battled to control her facial muscles and slid her eyes to Thicknesse instead. 

  
“Wotcher, Minister.” 

  
He inclined his head, but didn’t speak.

  
“It’s impolite to hover,” said Umbridge. 

  
Tonks pulled out a chair, scraping its legs along the floor, taking satisfaction in the flare of Umbridge’s nostrils at the sound.

  
“Tea?” Umbridge trilled. 

  
A tray-table wheeled itself out of the shadows, carrying a steaming teapot the same sickly pink as the ribbon looped into a bow atop Umbridge’s head. Tonks leant back in her chair and tapped her boot heels under the table. 

  
“It’s a bit late for me actually. I’ll be bouncing off the walls.” 

  
Umbridge arched a plucked eyebrow, but her placid smile remained fixed. “I can hardly imagine. Perhaps a water instead?” 

  
“No,” Tonks replied, adopting an identical smile. 

  
“Alastor Moody preferred to dispense with pleasantries too, didn’t he?”

  
Though Umbridge’s mouth was downturned in a pantomime of sympathy, her eyes flashed with triumph at the jolt Tonks failed to conceal.

  
“Of course, we were all deeply aggrieved when we heard of his tragic passing. One could even call it…the end of an era. Alastor Moody was the last of an old guard, part of a generation of Aurors whose individuality and idiosyncrasies were glorified - glorified, dare I say it, slightly to the detriment of some of the other noble qualities the office of Auror requires. Do not mistake me, my dear, I wouldn’t dream of denying his great contribution to our Ministry of Magic, but we are living in a different time now: a time in which Aurors must not aspire to renegadism but to serve as an efficient and integrated part of a wider system. We all had such high hopes for Rufus Scrimgeour but, sadly, he too proved to be a remnant of that old world, unequal to implementing the reforms that this government so sorely needs.”

  
“Where is Scrimgeour now?” Tonks asked, as mildly as she could manage. 

  
“Retired. Not everyone can cope with the pressures of high office. I’m afraid to say the Minister informs me his predecessor was rather uncooperative during the handover process - isn’t that correct, Pius?” 

  
“Stubborn, recalcitrant fool. He gave us nothing.” 

  
Tonks’ skin prickled. 

  
“Where were you tonight?” Umbridge asked. 

  
“A wedding.” 

  
“Ah, yes. The eldest of the Weasley boys and the French girl. Rather a lot of people who regard themselves as friends of Harry Potter attended that wedding, didn’t they?” 

  
“A handful.”

  
Umbridge leaned forward, her tiny fingernails poised on the desk. “Did you know that new evidence has come to light linking Harry Potter to the death of Albus Dumbledore?” 

  
“Did you know that torture is a crime?” Tonks blurted. “Because that’s what your new officers were doing.” 

  
“The law is what the Ministry makes it,” said Thicknesse. 

  
_Nod, you idiot._ Tonks knew she should agree, but her neck was too obstinate to bend.

  
“Our new officers are professionals,” said Umbridge. “They do not question the organisation that employs them unlike certain members of the Auror Department. In all honesty,” she paused, tilting her bow-crowned head to one side, “I’ve never quite understood the point of employing quite so many of you. Aurors do not enforce public order. They do not keep peace on our streets. They do nothing to subdue the undesirable elements flooding our society, but rather concentrate their efforts on the antiquated belief that there are dark wizards hiding behind every corner. It is more prudent, more…courageous even…for us to divert funds into expanding the departments who can best serve our nation’s needs at this difficult time.”

  
“Order and discipline,” muttered Thicknesse. 

  
“I couldn’t have put it better myself, Minister,” Umbridge replied rapturously, before fixing cold eyes back on Tonks, “Now, dear - ”

  
“It’s Auror Tonks.”

  
“What is?”

  
“My name. To you.” 

  
Umbridge gave a tinkling little laugh.

  
“Oh, but it isn’t,” she said, silkily. “Not anymore. I updated your file myself. Surely you understand that you cannot possibly continue to call yourself Auror Tonks when you are, in fact, Mrs Lupin?” 

  
She flourished a piece of parchment and slid it across the table. Tonks read only the first line. It was a poor imitation of her own handwriting, headed by a name she didn’t recognise. 

  
_I, Nymphadora Lupin, do hereby…_

  
“Your letter of resignation. Much more civilised this way, don’t you think? All you need to do is sign.” 

  
Tonks didn’t accept the pink quill offered to her. She slammed her palm down onto the letter and it shrivelled to a crisp. 

  
“You’re off your nut if you think I’ll resign.”

  
“Then you leave me with no choice but to inform you that your employment with the Ministry of Magic has been terminated, effective immediately, on the grounds of gross misconduct. You may not collect your latest payslip. You must return all Ministry property within your possession. You will leave the premises immediately.” 

  
“You fucking enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

  
“Silly girl. You didn’t really think we’d turn a blind eye to an Auror marrying a half-breed beast, did you?”

  
Tonks leapt to her feet. Umbridge flinched.

  
“Fuck you, you scum-sucking vulture, an ounce of my husband’s spit is worth more than your whole miserable life,” Tonks kicked the heavy table, then thumped her fists down on its surface,“and one day it’ll be your arse getting kicked out of here and into the piss-soaked cell in Azkaban you deserve, and on that day I hope you know that it was the Lupin-Tonkses who put you there. And you,” she snarled at Thicknesse, “you’re not even trying to resist it, are you? I bet the floor was still sticky with blood when you took his seat.” 

  
“Your father is the so-called ‘muggleborn’, Edward Tonks, is he not?” 

  
Tonks froze.

  
“Yes. Yes, I thought so,” Umbridge continued. “In my new capacity as Head of the Muggleborn Registration Committee, I will be conducting a survey of how such persons as Edward Tonks came to possess magical secrets. Unless your father can prove he has at least one wizarding relative, I will be forced to conclude that he obtained magical power illegally and assign the punishment I deem most appropriate. May I suggest, therefore, that you refrain from making threats and leave without a fuss.” 

  
Tonks’ hands were steady as she placed one ring after the other onto her wedding finger. 

  
“Better a werewolf’s whore than the Ministry’s skivvy.” 

  
She turned and stormed to the door. 

  
“Mrs Lupin?”

  
Tonks wrenched it open. 

  
“Those robes are Ministry property.” 

  
One hand thrust a middle finger over her shoulder, while the other ripped the clasps apart at the neck, and Tonks stepped over the robes as they tumbled to her feet. In her velvet dress, she began her last walk down the marble staircase. The people in the atrium stopped and stared up at her. She didn’t let herself remember who she’d been - the student glowing with pride as Nana Tonks told her she was going to be the witch James Bond; the tenacious, starry-eyed rookie; the Auror Tonks of twenty minutes ago who wouldn’t know how to recognise herself without her job - because to think like that would be to cry and she’d die before she let them have a single tear from her. She answered every look with a defiant scowl: they could ogle her, mock her, pity her all they wanted, she didn’t care, she was going to bring this palace of hypocrisy to its knees. She and her husband and their child growing strong inside her.

  
She passed Yaxley (walking with impunity, leading a group of journalists in the direction of the Minister’s office), blue-robed maintenance staff (chipping away at the old fountain), a man crying, holding a box containing a cactus and a photo frame (escorted to the exit by security staff). Kingsley emerged from the lifts, closely followed by Dawlish and two Magical Law Enforcement officers. He saw her but Tonks forced herself not to catch his eye: he was the Order’s last hope, she couldn’t taint him by familiarity. 

  
“What a disappointment,” he said as he passed, eliciting chuckles from his companions. 

  
Something wedged itself in Tonks’ hair and wriggled to hide behind her ear. When she reached street level, she reached in and pulled out a tiny scroll of parchment. 

  
_Just found out officers were sent to your parents’ home. No Aurors present._

  
“No,” Tonks moaned. 

  
Without heeding the drunk muggles at the bus stop and staggering on the spin, she disapparated. Seconds felt like hours. Her insides were melting, her lungs caving, but still she urged her cells on faster. Gasping for breath, she arrived on the deserted street and strained her eyes at the sky, begging for the skull with a snake’s tongue not to be hanging there. It was empty, no green light shone, but Tonks trusted nothing: she sprinted to the front door and smashed it down, bursting into the living room ready to kill anyone who dared raise a wand to her parents. 

  
“Mum?! Dad?!” 

  
The room was still. Only a second glance revealed something was amiss: pieces of smashed glass on the carpet, the rug crumpled, frames on the mantelpiece fallen flat. Tonks headed up the stairs, knees almost folding, throat raw as she screamed out for them.

  
“MUM! DAD!”

  
“Dora?” A voice croaked from behind their bedroom door.

  
“DAD!” 

  
She fell into the room. Her parents were lying on the bed. Ted eased himself up into a sitting position, wincing, but Andromeda didn’t move. She was curled on her side, her long hair fallen over her face. Tonks clambered on her knees over the bed towards her. 

  
“Mum? Are you okay?” 

  
Her eyes moved beneath their lids and she murmured, “Nymphadora?”

  
“It’s me. It’s me. I’m here,” said Tonks, smoothing her damp hair behind her ear before looking back at Ted, “What happened?” 

  
“It was just a normal evening, same as any other,” said Ted, his voice so weak it made Tonks’ heart crack to hear it, “I’d cooked us a nice beef stroganoff and we must have nodded off on the sofa because the next thing we knew there was a knock at the door. I could tell something was wrong immediately, of course. Our security charms were supposed to stop strangers getting as far as the house, but these lot had no trouble unlocking the door and waltzing straight in. They called themselves Magical Law Enforcement but I’d never clapped eyes on a single one of them in my life. Eight of them there were. All young and jumped-up, wearing these shiny new uniforms. They told us they were here to question us on the whereabouts of Harry Potter. We said we knew nothing, but they wouldn’t stop asking and asking. When we continued to resist, they…well, they tortured us…” 

  
Tonks choked back a wail, squeezing the quilt in her fist.

  
“I hope I never…” Ted continued, the words trembling out of him, “never hear the sound of your mother screaming…like that…ever again in my life…” 

  
“Oh, Dad…Dad…” 

  
Tonks clung to him, burying herself into the soft wool of his jumper and feeling his cheek against hers, scratchy like it always used to be when he tucked her in and kissed her goodnight when she was little. 

  
“I’m so sorry…I should have been there…I should have been there…” 

  
“I’m glad you weren’t, love. The Ministry’s fallen, hasn’t it?” 

  
Tonks sat back and nodded, getting her breathing under control. “And they’re moving against the muggleborns already. You can’t go to work and you’ve got to get out of this house. It was Ministry goons tonight, but it could be Bellatrix next.” 

  
Andromeda gasped softly.

  
“You’re coming to live with me and Remus.” 

  
Ted shook his head. “The two of you need your space.” 

  
“We’ll make room! Dad, get real - there’s nowhere else for you to go!” 

  
“That’s not strictly true…” 

  
Ted reached towards the bedside table, groaning with the effort. His fingers fumbling at the drawer handle, he withdrew a folder and handed it to Tonks. 

  
“I sorted these out before we joined the Order, thought they might come in handy on a rainy day. I’d say it’s pouring tonight, wouldn’t you?”

  
Tonks opened the folder to find a pair of small purple booklets she recognised as muggle passports, bearing the names Hugh and Sylvia Larkin, and a stack of thin papers stamped with lines of square letters. 

  
“You bought a house through the muggle system,” she said, flicking through the documents. 

  
“The Death Eaters are clueless when it comes to muggle bureaucracy, they’ll never figure it out. We’ll hole ourselves up in Cromer. I always did fancy living by the seaside.” 

  
“Well done, Dad,” Tonks started to ease herself off the bed, trying not to bounce her mother as she went. “Now let’s get going. I’ll help you.” 

  
“Your mum can’t apparate in this state, Dora. There’s no spell that can help her, she needs rest. And, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I can even stand yet.” 

  
Tonks pushed her fingers through the yellow tangles of her hair. “Twenty more minutes. But that’s it.” 

  
She ran back out into the garden, jumping at the skitter of a fox in the hedgerow and cloaking the house in new protection charms. The spells wouldn’t grant more than a few extra minutes to escape if the Ministry returned, but they were better than nothing. Back inside, she erased the marks of the invasion: smoothing the rug with her foot, uprighting the picture frames, vanishing the broken glass. She knew it was silly, but she wasn’t sure she could bear to say goodbye to it otherwise. When fifteen minutes remained of the time she’d promised, she sat down on the sofa and lowered her face into her hands. The adrenaline that had powered her through the night was beginning to fade, leaving stinging shock in its place. Recent memories circled her like predators. 

  
_“Oh Tonks. There’s never a perfect time…”_

  
_“It’s alright, my love…you can tell me. I won’t be angry with you. I was gone for such a long time and you - you were so lonely.”_

  
_“The law is what the Ministry makes it.”_

  
_“They…well, they tortured us…”_

  
Tonks swore under her breath and found that she couldn’t stop. She twisted the rings on her finger and longed for Remus. She wanted him close, wanted his hand warm upon her stomach, wanted him to kiss her aching head. Dipping deep into her reserves of strength, she cast a patronus and watched as the wolf glided, its paws paddling the air, out of the window and away into the night. It carried no message: it would appear to Remus in the very corner of his eye, too fast for anyone but him to notice. A beacon. An olive branch. A glimpse of light to let him know he wasn’t alone, to tell him to come to her as soon as he could. 

  
When Tonks returned upstairs, her parents were asleep. She draped a blanket over them and sat on the edge of the bed, listening to the clock tick. She remembered a spell she’d learnt during healing training. She didn’t know if it would work or whether it was even possible so early, but she tried it anyway. Roving her wand tip over her stomach, she searched until she heard something. Though amplified by magic, it was barely a patter; like the faintest flutter of paper wings. It wasn’t a true beat, but it was there all the same. Tonks tipped her head back, breathless with sudden, bright, painful hope. 


	10. The Fall, Part 1

**Chapter 10: The Fall, Part 1**

  
The dawn was sluggish. Remus stood waiting at the foot of the stairs, blanketed in the shadows of the house, watching as a soupy grey light crept under the front door. A distant crack sounded, muffled by the trees, and he heard a familiar gait thudding the earth until Tonks crashed inside. He had never seen her so exhausted. Her hair was matted at the crown and fell like yellow vines to her waist. Her eyelids were heavy, her lips dry. A woollen cardigan that Remus had to suppose belonged to her father flapped around her knees. The door rattled shut behind her. She noticed him and jumped. 

  
“Remus! You - you’re _here_? Are you alright? Why didn’t you come?” 

  
He didn’t answer. She stiffened. Her head cocked to one side and he knew her fingers were tightening around the wand concealed in her knitted pocket. 

  
“The first night we slept together, you ripped something of mine. What was it?”

  
Remus flinched at the unwelcome flash of memory.

  
“Answer me.” 

  
“Your jeans.”

  
She remained rigid, her eyebrows poised in suspicion. 

  
“Ask another question if you wish, but it is I. Remus Lupin.” 

  
“There’s a poster on the ceiling above my old bed at Mum and Dad’s. What’s it of?” 

  
“A drummer. From the Weird Sisters. The name escapes me.” 

  
Tonks sighed and ducked her head, folding in on herself as her body deflated of tension, rubbing at her face with her long sleeves. She kicked off her boots and crossed the room to the sofa, sinking into it like she wanted to be swallowed whole. She didn’t notice his travelling clothes. Nor what he had placed on the dining table.

  
“I sent you those patronuses because I needed you. Why didn’t you come? You made me think the Ministry had got you. Or worse!”

  
“What news from the Ministry?” 

  
“I dunno where to start,” she said, cheek pressed against the cracked leather, “Kingsley described it best. Fallen. They’re claiming Scrimgeour resigned. I reckon they tried to rack him for every scrap of information he had on Harry before bumping him off but, reading between the lines, I don’t think he cracked. We never saw eye-to-eye, but he was a true Auror, you know…” her teeth tugged on a nail, then she continued, “Umbridge is ruling the roost, diverting funds out of the Auror Department and into Magical Law Enforcement. You saw what those new officers are like for yourself, Death Eaters in all but name. Worse of all is this new Muggleborn Registration system she’s imposing. It’ll be all over the press tomorrow, I bet - I saw the journalists getting herded through the atrium - the muggleborns are being forced to report in. If they can’t prove they’ve got any close wizarding relatives, they’ll be punished. That’s what she said, Remus - _punished_. It’s all happening…happening so fast and…” she lifted her head and looked towards where he stood, still unmoving, by the stairs, “I went in front of her and Thicknesse and they…Remus…they…” 

  
“They sacked you.” 

  
“How did you know?” 

  
“It was inevitable.” 

  
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” 

  
“Not particularly.” 

  
“Cheers for the sympathy,” Tonks said slowly, danger in her eyes as she curled her legs beneath her and knelt up to get a better look at him. “I’ve just had the worst night of my entire life and that’s all you’ve got to say to me? You’re just standing there. You haven’t so much as offered me a fucking cup of tea. I know you’re scared shitless about the baby, but that’s no excuse. I needed you tonight and you didn’t come. What the hell have you been doing?” 

  
“I’ve been making a plan.” 

  
“You’ve been…what does that even…? They tortured my parents, Remus!” 

  
Remus took an involuntary step closer. “What? I - I didn’t know that.” 

  
“You would if you’d come! The Ministry’s pet hooligans put the Cruciatus Curse on them. For hours. Whilst you’ve been fannying about here, I’ve been looking after them, getting them to safety.” 

  
“How are they?”

  
“How d’you _think_? Shaken up. Hardly able to walk. Lucky my Dad bought a safe house for the two of them through the muggle system, weeks ago. I took them there and kitted it out with every security measure I could think of. They’ll be alright after a few days’ rest, but…this is why I never wanted them involved…” 

  
Remus said nothing. Tonks pressed her lips together, forcing back the anger. 

  
“What happened at the Burrow? Is everyone okay?” 

  
“Everyone’s fine. They interrogated us until the small hours and we fed them as much false information as we could. There was no torture, nor any arrests. Your Imperiused friend was helpful.” 

  
Tonks closed her eyes. 

  
“Don’t feel guilty,” he told her. “You did what was necessary. Mad Eye would have done the same thing. Every inch of the Burrow was searched, but no clues as to Harry’s whereabouts were found - only a ghoul in the attic dressed up in pyjamas. Bill claimed it was Ron, suffering from spattergroit.” 

  
“Huh?” 

  
“A cover story. He, Harry and Hermione didn’t just flee the wedding, they’ve left for good. Some of their clothes and books were missing, as well as Arthur’s old tent.” 

  
Tonks let out a puff of air. “Smart kids. Thank Merlin. Or thank Hermione, more likely…” 

  
Her reaction, like that of Bill and Arthur who had turned out to be complicit in the trio’s departure, appalled Remus. Only Molly grasped the truth of the situation. Too shocked to cry, she had stood in the feather-strewn remains of Ron’s ransacked bedroom and met Remus’ gaze. Silently, they’d agreed upon their failure. 

  
“Did you tell your parents what you told me?” Remus asked, quietly. 

  
“Call a spade, a spade, Remus. Did I tell my parents I’m pregnant? No. I thought the shock might finish them off. Besides, I want us to tell them together.” 

  
“I suspect another round of torture would be preferable to hearing that piece of news.”

  
“Do you really think I’m going to put up with comments like that?” Tonks launched herself off the sofa and approached him, her socks sliding on the bare floorboards. “I need you to be strong. I’m having our baby - ”

  
“Have you considered not - ?”

“Don’t,” she snapped, her tired eyes flashing. “Don’t do that. You know it’s my decision to make and you know I’ve already made it. That’s your fear talking, not you. That’s _horrible_.” 

  
“No, it isn’t. It’s merciful.” 

  
“ _Merciful_?” 

  
“I’ve cursed it with lycanthropy and now you would curse it with life?”

  
Tonks’ pupils were huge in the dim light. He thought he could almost hear her heart racing.

  
“Life’s not a curse, Remus.” 

  
“Not for you.” 

  
“Not for you either! I know life’s dealt you a shitty hand, but you’ve got to stop drowning yourself in self pity - I can’t cope with it right now. What’s happening out there is bigger - far bigger - than your anxieties. The Ministry’s collapsed, the muggleborns are being persecuted, the whole world’s going to hell…but if there’s a bright spot in all this mess, it’s us. Our - our little family.” 

  
She tried to seize his hands in her damp, hot grip but he wouldn’t allow it. 

  
“Stop fooling yourself, Tonks.” 

  
“What is _wrong_ with you?”

  
Remus felt bubbles in his chest; a strange, bitter impulse to laugh at her. “You know what’s wrong with me.” 

  
Tonks banged her palms against her temples. “You’re a werewolf! Woe is you! Cry me a fucking river! I won’t have the same ancient conversation with you again. This isn’t about you. This is about our baby. That’s who we need to talk about. You’ve convinced yourself that it’s going to come out a werewolf like you and that’s what’s sending you round the twist, but there’s no evidence for that whatsoever. I’m no expert, but the turning process is pretty cut and dry, isn’t it? A bite from a transformed werewolf at the full moon. Not sex, not conception…the curse doesn’t live in your balls, does it? Look at the facts, Remus. Stop panicking and _think_.” 

  
Remus had to stop looking at her. Tonks knew nothing. Her so-called facts were irrelevant. The curse always found a way. The curse dwelt in every single one of his cells and so too the cells he had passed onto this baby, this baby who would know only pain for as long as it lived; who would never know freedom. Remus moved his fingers so the protruding veins slid under the surface of his skin. The little one would see its own hands distend and fur; would see claws burst out through its tiny fingernails. There could be no redemption for what Remus had done. No forgiveness. His heart was ash and all that remained of him was this wasted body: a body he could only surrender to duty. Gradually, he became aware that Tonks had begun speaking again. She never could stand silence. 

  
“…you know what I think? I think you do want to be a father. I think you’ve always wanted it, you’ve just never admitted it to yourself, and that terrifies you. But…if you let yourself imagine it, you’ll see what I see: one day, at the beginning of Spring next year, we’ll have a baby. A chubby, bouncing baby with two parents who’ll love it no matter what. Two bonkers, mismatched parents who’ll do their absolute best. I’ll probably drop it on its head and accidentally teach it to swear before I teach it to talk and put its socks on its hands and its booties on its head - but you won’t. You’ll be a natural. You’ll read to it, teach it about plants and creatures, be so funny and patient that it will adore you,” the faster the words fell from her, the faster her fury faded until all that remained was an ardency that disturbed him. “Imagine it. Come on, Remus. We’ll use the box room upstairs for a nursery. It just needs a bit of cheering up, that’s all. We can paint the walls with animals and clouds and kaleidoscope colours, whatever it is that babies like. We’ll still go out and fight, we’ll fight harder than ever, but - ”

  
“How do you propose we fight harder than ever when the real fight - the only fight - is by Harry’s side?” 

  
“Don’t change the subject - ” 

  
“I’m not changing the subject. How can we, as members of the Order, sit back whilst Harry, Ron and Hermione face the true conflict alone? They’re not prepared for the magnitude of the task ahead of them. They’re in dire need of help.” 

  
“They don’t want help.”

  
“Of course they do. It’s just that Harry is too much of James’ son to ask for it.” 

  
“Look, I don’t understand it any better than you do but Dumbledore swore them to secrecy. We’ve got to trust that Harry knows what he’s doing.”

  
“Harry is a child - ”

  
“He’s not your child! But this one is,” Tonks placed a hand on her still-flat stomach, “and right now this one needs you more.” 

  
“The man who cursed it before it could even draw its first breath? Like a hole in the head, Tonks.” 

  
“It’s Tonks again, is it? I can’t believe how pathetic you’re being. In the space of a day, I’ve lost my job, my parents have been tortured and I’ve found out I’m pregnant with a baby I never wanted, but I’m not getting myself into a tizzy or taking it out on the people I love, I’m digging in my heels and trying to make the best of it. It’s time for you to step up too. You’re better than this.” 

  
“There have been many people in my life with an inflated sense of my goodness, but none more so than you.” 

  
Tonks made a noise somewhere between a growl and a shriek. “I could crack my head against the wall! We’ve got to work together, Remus - we’re married!” 

  
He paused for a moment, pinned under the heat of her inflamed stare, before saying evenly, “I don’t think we should be married anymore.” 

  
“Something’s happened to you,” Tonks replied, her voice quietened by fear. 

  
She hurled herself towards him and drew her wand, holding him still by the front of his robes. He submitted to her, letting her pat him down, feeling the roots of his hair tingle and a cool breeze dance around his navel as she scanned him for jinxes. 

  
“They’ve done something to you, I know they have,” she said, her eyes flicking back and forth across his face. “What was it? Tell me!” 

  
“I’m not jinxed.” 

  
“You are. You have to be.” 

  
She repeated the spells, faster this time, stumbling over the incantations until her voice eventually faltered and her wand drooped. She staggered backwards, bumping into the arm of the sofa. 

  
“Why did you say that?”

  
“We never should have married in the first place.”

  
“You don’t mean that.”

  
“I do.”

  
“No, you don’t! You’re having some kind of…some kind of _breakdown_.” 

  
“I’m not mad, Tonks. My mind is entirely clear. I’ve been feeling this way for a while.”

  
“For a while? For a _while_?” Tonks repeated, her voice rising to a yell. “We haven't even been married a while! No, no - it’s finding out about the baby that’s done this to you. All your demons are coming back but you mustn’t let them in, Remus. Look at me,” Tonks brought her sleeve-covered hand to the notch at the base of her neck, her eyes wide and entreating. “It’s me. Your Dora. Your wife. You’ve got to come back to me. You’ve got to remember all the good and beautiful things. Remember what it felt like when we danced after our wedding, the sand between your toes, and what it felt like those mornings in Hogsmeade, waking up together after all those months apart, and - and only the other day, upstairs on the landing, the way you kissed my neck - and…” she steadied herself, taking a breath. “I know it hasn’t always been easy, but I never promised you an easy marriage, did I? I promised you love. And I love you. So much. Even when you insult me, infuriate me, hurt me…I love you.”

  
“You forgive too much. Overlook too much. Expect too much. Those memories obscure the truth. Loving me has brought you nothing but hardship. It’s weakened you in every way. Surely you can see that?”

  
“I’m not weak. I’m proud to love you. I’m proud of who I am.” 

  
“And who are you, Tonks? Do you even recognise yourself anymore? You’ve lost your job, your place in society, your chance at a normal life - even your body is no longer your own. You’ve lost everything because of me, because of my inability to say no to you. I should have held to my convictions. I knew there would be no peace for us, no lasting joy. I never should have surrendered that night in Hogwarts.” 

  
“You didn’t surrender, you followed your heart after a year of denial! You let go of your stupid hang-ups and admitted you loved me.” 

  
“I broke. I couldn’t stand the pressure anymore.”

  
Tonks’ cheeks burnt red. “No - !”

  
“You thought you could sweep my reservations aside with a grand gesture in front of our friends, but - ”

  
“That’s not how it was! You’re twisting it!” 

  
“ - though I was overcome, I was never convinced.” 

  
“You’re a liar! You’re the one who came to find _me_. You weren’t broken, you were yourself, your true self, more yourself now than whoever,” she jabbed her finger at him, “this stranger is. I’ll never forget the way your face looked. The sun was coming up and you cried and you told me you didn’t want to lie to me anymore. That the truth was you’d love me your whole life,” Tonks’ voice wavered, but she pressed on, “those days around our wedding were the happiest of your entire life and you’ll never be able to convince me that they weren’t. ‘No more fear’, that’s what you said to me. In the shower. Don’t you remember? You gave me the best of you. You weren’t shackled by fear. You were happy. You were _so happy_.” 

  
“I pushed my concerns down deep, but I knew what we were doing was wrong.” 

  
“I don’t believe that for a second!” Tonks spluttered. “If that’s true, why the hell did you go through with it? WHY DID YOU MARRY ME?” 

  
“BECAUSE YOU ASKED ME TO.”

  
He hadn’t intended to shout back at her. He heard the words erupt and echo around the small room as if they belonged to someone else. 

  
“Why are you doing this to me?” Tonks’ voice was strangled, almost unrecognisable. “If I’m so much better than you, why do you keep treating me like shit? You swore you’d never hurt me again, but now you’re acting like it’s inevitable. Nothing is inevitable, Remus, _nothing_. This is a choice you’re making. A choice you can unmake.” 

  
“I didn’t choose to conceive a child.”

  
“Right, that was your _fucking stupid_ wife’s fault.” 

  
“You were careless, but the fault lies equally with us both. I never should have entered a physical relationship with you so lightly - ”

  
The end of his sentence disappeared into Tonks’ harsh breathy laugh. “I swear, the war outside is nothing compared to the war your brain is waging against itself.”

  
“That doesn’t sound like a description of a fit father to me.” 

  
“Your baby will _love_ you, Remus.” 

  
“The man that condemned it to the full moon? No. It will despise me.” 

  
“Only if you tear our marriage apart, only if you abandon us! Let’s pretend for a second that our baby will be a werewolf like you. Don’t you think it will need you all the more? You never had that growing up, did you? You never had anyone who really understood what it was like, your Dad was afraid - ”

  
“You understand nothing - ” 

  
“I understand more than you give me credit for! I’d understand even more if you opened up to me. We wouldn’t be in this mess if you weren’t always letting your shame get the better of you. You’re always refusing my help, trying to keep your symptoms a secret - ”

  
“I’m not the only one who has been secretive in this marriage.” 

  
Remus dipped his hand into his pocket. The sickles he had found on the floor by the door - enough for four butterbeers - clinked as he withdrew the crumpled note he’d discovered amongst them. He smoothed it and held it up to show her. Her eyes flicked, defiant, to his face instead. 

  
“I should get that phrase tattooed somewhere. Maybe that’ll finally get the message into your thick head that I don’t care you’re a werewolf.”

  
Her words pricked him, lancing a boil of resentment he’d scarcely known was there. 

  
“Oh, I know you don’t care, Tonks,” he replied, derision leaking into his tone. “Where we differ is that you seem to believe that’s a good thing.” 

  
Tonks frowned, surprise robbing her of a response. 

  
“You should care. You should care because I care. You should long for me to escape this, as I do. If you had even the slightest appreciation of what it means to be trapped the way I am, bound the way I am, forced to share a mind and body with a monster bent on massacre, you would beg for a miracle at every full moon like I do. You think this wretched child will want to hear that its mother doesn’t care whether it’s a werewolf or not?” 

  
“I…” Tonks blinked rapidly, “…that’s not what I…when I say I don’t care, I don’t mean I don’t care about your suffering or your…your… What it means is that I love you for who you are, I’m willing to take the risk, I don’t love you any less because you’re a werewolf…” 

  
“Your mother was right about you. You think love alone is enough. But it isn’t, Tonks. It isn’t.” 

  
“My mum said what? When?” 

  
“We spoke privately over the dishes - ”

  
“I knew it! I knew something happened that night! Don’t listen to her, she grew up in a poisonous, prejudiced environment, she - ”

  
“She only told me what I already knew: that our marriage puts you in unacceptable danger, that I should have resisted you and stuck to my principles.” 

  
“Why didn’t you tell me? Omitting is as good as lying, you know.” 

  
“You lied to me before our wedding. You told me your parents were fine with my condition.” 

  
“Can you fucking blame me? I am on constant eggshells around you! It’s impossible to have an honest conversation sometimes, you’re so sensitive, always looking for a reason to shrink away. All I’ve ever wanted to do is love you and prove it, but you chuck it all back in my face! You’re forcing me to fight for you even though you’re the one being a complete twat, not me! This whole argument is a farce. We both know you’ll never actually leave me. You’ll be begging for me to forgive you before the day’s through. You’ll step up and be the father you were always meant to be.” 

  
“I’ll never be a father. I’ll not force my presence on an innocent child who’s already been punished with a life not worth living because of my mistakes.” 

  
“Not worth living? That’s like saying you’d rather never have been born than live the life you’ve got!” 

  
“Yes. It is.” 

  
Tonks became very still. Her eyes had been dry, but now they started to swim.

  
Her voice cracked as she asked, “You’d rather have nothingness than our life together?” 

  
“I’ve wished for oblivion many times. Never more so than today.”

  
Tonks’ shoulders sagged and a sob throbbed from her mouth. Fat tears fell, too numerous for her hands to stop, soaking her face. 

  
“That’s awful…Remus, no….” 

  
“The war is the only thing left to me. Harry is our only hope for victory and he needs my protection.” 

  
Tonks stared at him, her eyelashes heavy with crystal-like tears.

  
“I’m going to join him. I’m going to help he, Ron and Hermione complete the task Dumbledore bequeathed to them.”

  
“You want to leave me to follow them on their mission?”

  
“Yes.”

  
“You want to leave me?” 

  
“Yes.”

  
Tonks doubled over and wretched, clutching her stomach with one hand and paddling the air with the other, groping for the sofa.

  
“You don’t want to fight for them, you want to die for them!” She moaned. 

  
Remus caught her just as her knees buckled. She balled his robes in her fists and pushed hard against his chest, wriggling away from him and clinging to him at the same time. He swept her feet from the floor and laid her down in the cushions. She curled up, creature-like, her long strands of hair draping off the edge of the sofa. 

  
“What can I do? What can I do?” 

  
“There’s nothing you can do.” 

  
Her eyes crinkled shut and her whole body twitched with new sobs. Remus straightened up and walked to the kitchen, pulling out a fraying potions encyclopedia. He ran his finger down the index to find ‘morning’, then flicked to the page: the ingredients were simple, easily summoned from Mad Eye’s stores. He mixed them in boiled water, cast the required charm, then decanted the steaming tea into a mug. Next he prepared a bowl of thick porridge, stirring liberal amounts of sugar into the oats, listening to Tonks cry. The sound calmed him: every tear that fell, every choking groan, was a memory, a kiss, a little piece of him leaving her forever. It was a necessary pain. She was being purged. 

  
A drip landed on the counter. To his surprise, Remus raised his hand to find his own cheeks wet. He dried them before returning to her. 

  
“Here,” he said, perching on the very edge of the sofa beside her trembling supine body, balancing the bowl between them. “The tea is for the sickness and the porridge is to restore your strength. You’ve been up all night. You’re shocked and exhausted. Once you’re feeling better, you can decide what you’re going to do next.” 

  
Tonks sat up slowly, her blocked sinuses labouring her breathing. She took the mug from him and drank, watching him carefully through red-rimmed eyes.

  
“I know I have no right to tell you what to do, but all the same I’d like to offer you some advice. If you’re determined to have this baby, the best thing will be to move in with your parents. They’ll look after you. I don’t want you to be alone.” 

  
Tonks placed the empty mug on the floor and mopped her nose with her cardigan, straightening her back, the potion reanimating her. Her pink, tear-stained face was alive with the extraordinary strength that had always entranced him, but now he saw it for what it truly was: a misplaced faith that blazed like an inferno; that she couldn’t stop fanning even as it consumed everything she held dear. 

  
“You won’t leave me,” she said. “You love me too much. No matter how cruel and self-loathing you can be, you always do the right thing in the end. You won’t leave your pregnant wife like some scumbag. You take care of people even though life’s never really taken care of you, because that’s who you are. Your darkest thoughts don’t define you and I know they won’t break you: they never have and they never will. You’re a survivor, Remus. And so am I. We can withstand anything, even the apocalyptic barney we’ve just had, _anything_. You’re the person I’ve chosen to share my life with and I trust my instincts. You’re too good and too brave and you love me too much to - ” 

  
Tonks stopped short. She was staring at his left hand. 

  
“It’s on the table. I’m sorry if I ever gave you the impression that I was some kind of hero, Tonks.” 

  
After two years of waiting for it, Remus finally saw the look of disgust on her face he always knew he would. She picked up the heavy bowl of porridge and, in a single swift movement, cast her arm back and hurled it across the room where it exploded against the wall. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued! Thank you so much for reading xx


	11. The Fall, Part 2

**Chapter 11: The Fall, Part 2**

The bowl struck the wall, breaking apart into hot shards of porcelain that pattered against the floor like giant hailstones, interspersed with steaming globs of porridge. Remus didn’t even flinch.

“Let’s try and discuss this separation amicably. Like adults.”

“Fuck you.”

Tonks seized the empty mug from the floor and stood up to fling it across the room, yearning for the fleeting release of the smash even as she knew nothing could slake her outrage; nothing could pacify the furious beating of her heart, so rapid it felt as though it could erupt from her chest and fly at his face. She rubbed away the thick stream under her nose with a sleeve and glared down at Remus.

“How can you do this to me? How can you just give up?”

“I’ve explained myself to you already. I have to do what’s right - ”

“Only your warped sense of morality would tell you that ditching me and our baby is the right thing to do! Why is it that whenever you get on your high horse and spout off about duty, it’s always when you’re about to do something absolutely despicable?”

She started pacing: her knees knocking, her hands worrying at her hair, her throat parched, her cheeks and chest hot with raised blood; trying not to look at the ring, sitting so small and silent on the table at the back of the room.

“I’m not asking you to be a hero or to become the perfect dad overnight, I’m asking you to try. I’m asking you to stay with me, like you bloody well vowed you would. I’m asking you to be the man I married, not this loveless bag of bones, not this monster ripping out my heart with no full moon in sight.”

She stopped suddenly, her dad’s long cardigan swaying.

“The kids will see right through you, you know. They’re not stupid. What lie are you planning on telling them? How will you explain why you’ve left me behind?”

“I’ll tell them the truth. That you’ll be safe. That you’ll be with your parents.”

Tonks scoffed, blowing strands of yellow hair away from her mouth. “They’ll send you packing within five minutes. They won’t want some deadbeat dad tagging along with them. You’ll only be a burden.”

Remus shook his head. “No. They’ll be grateful for my help. Besides, it’s what James and Lily would want - ”

“Oh, spare me ‘what James and Lily would want’! Don’t use your dead friends as an excuse.”

“You never knew them,” Remus interrupted her, his voice clipped and sharp. “You don’t have the right to comment on what they - ”

“Maybe not, but I knew Sirius. What do you think Sirius would say if he was here?”

“Sirius wouldn’t be here. Sirius would already be at Harry’s side, protecting his godson - ”

“Sirius would call you a pathetic cunt for leaving me and a heartless fraud for trying to justify it. That’s if he even recognised this pitiful imitation of Remus Lupin as his friend. Your self-obsession and cruelty would make him _sick_.”

The sinews in Remus’ neck tightened, but his voice remained quiet and controlled. “Would you like to know what he’d say to you, Tonks?

She crossed her arms tight, her nostrils flaring, but didn’t reply.

“That you’re better off without me.”

“You know what, Remus?”

_He’d be fucking right._

Remus stared up at her, waiting for her to speak the words he seemed to know were being screamed inside her head, but Tonks swallowed them and began pacing again; clutching at her head as if to try and catch a clear thought from the jungle inside. Somewhere buried deep, something was telling her not to play into his hands, that he didn’t mean the vileness he was spewing at her, that he wasn’t well - but louder by far was the chorus that clamoured to retaliate, to soak him in the blood of her wounds.

“You were right to call me fucking stupid last night. Because I am, aren’t I? Only a proper doormat would have forgiven you for dumping me the first time around. Only a truly naive pinhead would have taken you back so easily. Just one eloquent little speech and that was that. You never fought for me, not really - not like I fought for you. Dad told me I deserved better than someone who’d hurt me like that, Mum told me you had a good reason for rejecting me, Bill told me you were too damaged…but did I listen? No, of course I bloody didn’t - I was too blindly loyal for that. I didn’t even listen to _you_. You, the person who gave me more reasons than anyone not to trust you, a whole litany of warnings, a gigantic clanging set of alarm bells…”

As she spoke, Remus’ head inclined ever so slightly. He was agreeing with her, drinking in her words, unsurprised by them - but Tonks couldn’t stop.

“And still I got down on my silly little knees and proposed to you. I thought you’d be worth it. I thought we’d be happy together. But instead…instead…it’s like our first dance was on quicksand and I never noticed, but you did - and you’re only telling me about it now, now that I’ve been sucked in ankle deep. You can berate me for semantics, for every time I’ve put my foot in my mouth, but at least I’ve given this relationship my all which is more than I can say about you. I’ve tried so hard. So hard. And for what? For you to just leave me all over again? For a grand total of four weeks of marriage? You’ve bent me out of shape and now you’re breaking me. You’re BREAKING me, Remus,” she fought for breath, her own shout ringing in her ears. “I’ve never known happiness like the happiness I’ve felt with you…but I’ve never known such bloody wretched misery either.”

“Wouldn’t you like to be free of that misery, Tonks?”

Tonks stopped again and pointed a finger at him. “Don’t you dare talk to me about freedom. I’m the one up the duff, not you. You want to waltz out of here and leave me, my belly swelling with your baby - your baby that I’ll have to grow and birth and feed and love all by myself - and you have the nerve to call that setting me free?” Tonks stepped closer to the sofa. “I bet you’re incapable of seeing it like that, aren’t you? Because that would make it harder for you to wallow in your own precious subjugation, wouldn’t it?”

“I’ll feel the shame of what I’ve done every second that remains to me.”

Tonks followed Remus’ downturned gaze to the fingers tightly laced in his lap: the sight of them - the anxious tips, that had learned so quickly how to love her, pressing white onto the hands that had caressed fireworks into her skin a hundred times, leading to the slender arms that had pinned her so gently to the wall upstairs - sent a ripple of bitter fury pulsing through her.

“You and your shame. Where was all that shame the day before yesterday? And the day before that? In fact, where was it for the shag in question? Conveniently absent.”

“It was there,” said Remus in a hoarse whisper, his whole body tensing up. “It was always there…”

Tonks tore off her cardigan. A velvet dress strap drooped off her naked shoulder. She was breathing hard, her chest surging over the low neckline, one hand squeezing the material covering her lower stomach. She threw words at him like weapons, her eyes scouring his face for a reaction; for any sign of life from the automaton that was now her husband.

“Oh really? Fucking me was so morally disgusting to you, was it? The dirty sacrifice of all your lofty principles? My body’s not a battleground for your conscience, Remus. Our baby’s sprung out of love, not out of failure or guilt - it’s an accident, not a mistake. You’ve got to take responsibility. You’ve got to share this with me.”

She reached out, wanting to take his hand and press it to her unformed bump, but he pushed the sofa backwards with his feet, inching past her and striding across the room. Tonks skidded in front of him, placing her body between him and the door.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” she said quickly. “You’re trying to force me to kick you out willingly by hurting me until I snap, but I won’t let the worst of you win. You might have made me hate you but you’ll never stop me…never stop me…”

Her tongue didn’t want to form the shapes, but Tonks closed her eyes, hauling from her depths an unthinkable strength: a strength that belied her cracked, weeping heart; her exhausted, changing body.

“…loving you,” she finished. "It’s not too late. We can still salvage this. We can still create a home, if you just _stay_.”

“A home?” Remus’ voice shook and his eyes were suddenly wild. “What home? You don’t have the slightest idea what you’re trying to commit yourself to, do you? You know nothing of what it really means to live a werewolf’s life. You never have. You never _could_. All you’ve ever known is a life perfectly within your own control: a cosy upbringing as the centre of your parents’ world, a respected career path, a body that obeys your every whim… But as the mother of a werewolf, nothing will be in your control. You’ll have to put your baby in a cage every month, ignoring its cries for you, hearing it shriek with a pain no child should ever have to suffer. Your love for your child will be indistinguishable from your horror at the fate bestowed upon it. Do you honestly think you’ll be able to stand sharing your bed with me, the beast responsible? The hatred you feel for me now will pale in comparison to the loathing you’ll feel for me then. All this whilst the war rests in the hands of an inexperienced boy, every day bringing slaughter closer to our door. Is that your vision for our wonderful family life? Is that the safe, loving home of your dreams?”

Remus stepped around her. Trembling, her arms cradling her ribs, Tonks turned to see him stop by the door, his face dreadful and expressionless once more.

“You won’t need to bother with a divorce,” he said. “A marriage to a werewolf can simply be annulled. Like it never happened.”

There was a clap like thunder and every window in the house cracked. The panes split first into fissures and then shattered. Tiny pieces of glass formed into shoals and engulfed them both.

“Tonks! Stop!”

But, like a child, she couldn’t: the shock was leaving her in waves. The bones of the house shuddered as branches plunged through the empty window frames, the trees pressing in on the very room itself. The glass flew faster and faster, making tiny nicks in Remus’ robes and slicing at Tonks’ bare arms which blossomed with tiny beads of blood. Remus was shouting something, coming closer through the storm, but Tonks couldn’t think, could only feel.

“You’re only hurting yourself! Stop it!”

He shielded her with his arms. She stared up into his face, dizzy with simultaneous disgust and yearning, and the whirling stopped. Their chests touched, their heartbeats pounding out of time, as Remus muttered under his breath to heal her shallow cuts, her blood smudging under his fingertips.

“Please,” she whispered.

He was too close to hide. She saw his lips quiver at the word.

“Please don’t leave.”

“It’s time to let me go,” he said softly, and his eyes had never looked so terrible nor so beautiful as he added, “I think you’re ready to.”

The words scratched her throat on their way out. “This is your home. _I’m_ your home.”

“There is no home for me.”

Tonks gasped, but no tears fell; she’d used them all up. “You’ll…never stop…being my husband…”

“In name only - ”

“No, no,” she moaned, tipping her head onto his chest. “Body and soul. Forever.”

“No marriage is forever, Tonks,” she heard him say, near her ear. “The vows we took only last until death.”

She was limp, too weak to move, as he turned from her and walked towards the door. Her socks had fused to the floorboards, rooting her to the spot, so she could only call after him.

“If you walk out that door, I’ll never forgive you.”

He paused, his hand raised to the handle.

“I swear, I’ll never take you back.”

The impossible happened so fast Tonks barely processed it until she heard the faint click of the lock as Remus shut the door behind him. She stared at the empty space he’d left behind, as if his shape could reform itself from the air. Then she watched herself, as if from above, crouch and fumble in the pockets of her cardigan; cross the room and wrench open the door; burst out into the morning, the dew of the forest floor chilling her feet as she fled in pursuit. Halfway to the apparition boundary, Tonks stopped dead. Standing on the brink, Remus turned slowly to face her.

There was not even the slightest trace of shock on his face to see her pointing her wand at his chest.

Tonks didn’t understand it. The earth below them should have been revolting into flames, the trees should have been cleaving themselves in two, the sky itself should have come tearing down upon their heads in witness to such a fall, but instead the forest was still.

She stared at the tip of her wand as if she’d never seen it before. It was shaking. She dropped her arm and the wand slipped from her fingers, landing noiselessly among the nettles. She took what she knew would be her last look at him and spoke the only words she had for a goodbye.

“I had so much faith in you.”

“I know.”

Remus turned on the spot and was gone.


	12. Shadow of the Wolf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Heavy references to suicide and suicidal thoughts

**Chapter 12: Shadow of the Wolf**

_“Look, Harry - look who’s come to visit!”_

_“Oh - oh my goodness,” said Remus, blinking as Lily reached the foot of the stairs and he saw, snug in her arms, a round pink head dusted with black hair and a pair of tiny socked feet pedalling the air._

_“Say hello to our little terror, Moony,” said James._

_“H-hello.”_

_It had been months since Remus smiled a proper smile, but now a wide grin of amazement spread across his face. Though Lily’s large green eyes were hooded with exhaustion, they twinkled as she kissed the top of her baby’s head. Harry’s mouth gaped open and shut, his little red fingers clenching and unclenching._

_“Do you want to hold him?”_

_“Me? Are you sure? I - I don’t know how - ”_

_“Go on,” said James, prodding Remus in the back. “He doesn’t bite - not yet anyway.”_

_Nervously, Remus tried to arrange his arms as Lily brought Harry closer._

_“That’s it,” she said, delicately transferring the soft bundle, “one hand under his bottom like that…and the other for his head…perfect!”_

_Harry squirmed, his fists wheeling, loosening the blanket that wrapped around his scarlet onesie but, before Remus could glance back at Lily for instructions, he started to settle. Remus stared, wondering how it was possible for a nose to be so miniature and for a life so big to be contained in a bundle so small. It was peaceful holding Harry: the world seemed to shrink until all that existed was this brand new being, knowing nothing of the world’s turmoil, wanting only milk, sleep and a pair of warm arms to comfort him. Harry’s eyes began to shut._

_“You’re a natural, Moony. He’s not usually this chilled with strangers,” said James._

_“He knows Moony’s not a stranger,” said Lily._

_“You’ve got to visit more often if this is the effect you have on him, mate. How’s your calendar looking at two o’clock in the morning, every morning?”_

_“And three o’clock…and five o’clock…” Lily whispered, resting her head on Remus’ shoulder, her dark red hair tumbling down his arm as she tucked Harry’s blanket closer around him._

_“Welcome to the world, Harry,” Remus said quietly. “I apologise that it’s in such a sorry state.”_

_James put his arm around them both. Remus wished he could freeze the moment, wished the little family of three could always be held safe like this, and wished something else too - something he couldn’t bear to put into words, even inside his own head._

———

He could no longer resist the inevitable. Dogged by Death Eaters, Remus had tried everywhere else. He’d sought Harry, Ron and Hermione at every possible address, leaving just the one remaining. The place repelled him, but he knew he had no choice. It was to London he must go: to the looming black-bricked terrace, the shadowy tunnelled halls of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. At least when he arrived, everything would slot into place. Uninterpretable memories would no longer harangue him. Glass windows would stop exploding behind his eardrums. Duty would enfold him, obliterate him, save him.

The Islington alleyway stank of rot and urine. A fox, scraping its claws across a discarded bin bag to release its fetid juices, skittered away when Remus appeared. Kicking aside the silver canisters that littered the ground, Remus emerged onto the street. A passerby bumped against him and the butterbeers he’d purchased with money not his own clinked inside his cloak.

There was a familiar sight in the square. Bathed in spots of yellow from the street lamps, two Death Eaters were staking out the house: too many to easily dispatch, too few to know that Harry was inside. Remus waited until they turned their heads in conversation then apparated onto the topmost step, quickly pushing the coiled snake door knocker so that the next breath he took was inside Sirius’ ancestral home. It was like inhaling the past. The smell hurtled up through his nostrils, summoning wide paws that padded down the stairs, a bottle that slammed onto a tabletop, a young Auror who tilted her electric pink head in his direction, grinning wickedly -

“Severus Snape?” Mad Eye Moody asked.

A hoary gust of air filled the corridor, blinding him, and his tongue curled to the roof of his mouth. Remus watched as Dumbledore’s corpse rose up from the floor and began to soar towards him, flying faster and faster down the thin hallway, with holes instead of eyes and skin that dripped from a raised, accusing finger. But Remus felt no fear. He had seen things far more terrible than the dead.

“It was not I who killed you, Albus.”

The grey figure exploded into dust. Somewhere behind the cloud, Remus heard the voice of the boy on whom his fate depended.

“Don’t move!”

“MUDBLOODS AND FILTH DISHONOURING MY HOUSE - ”

Remus winced and stepped back. Not because of the shriek but because his foot had nudged the troll leg umbrella stand that lay, concealed by the fog, on the floor. He heard rapid footsteps and raised his arms above his head.

“Hold your fire, it’s me, Remus!”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

It was Hermione. Remus heard the swish of curtains and Sirius’ mother fell silent.

“Show yourself!” Called Harry, his voice containing none of the relief of Hermione’s.

Remus stepped out of the mist, his arms still held aloft.

“I am Remus John Lupin, werewolf, sometimes known as Moony, one of the four creators of the Marauder’s Map, married to Nymphadora, usually known as Tonks, and I taught you how to produce a Patronus, Harry, which takes the form of a stag.”

“Oh. Alright,” said Harry, lowering his wand, “but I had to check, didn’t I?”

“Speaking as your ex-Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, I quite agree that you had to check. Ron, Hermione, you shouldn’t be quite so quick to lower your defences.”

There was so much they needed him to teach them. Remus managed a smile at that thought and the three ran down the stairs to greet him.

“No sign of Severus then?”

“No,” Harry replied quickly. “What’s going on? Is everyone okay?”

“Yes, but we’re all being watched.”

His voice sounded confident, taut with control, as he told them of the extent of the Death Eaters’ surveillance. But as they descended into the kitchen and the fire sprang in the hearth, sending light rippling on the walls just as it always used to, Remus felt a shiver. He should not have summoned her by speaking her name, unconsciously letting the truth that was now a lie cross his lips. They sat down at the table and Remus handed out the butterbeers, imparted the first of his updates, and then asked, “So, you came straight here after the wedding?”

Hearing of their confrontation on Tottenham Court Road made the bottle wobble in his fingers and fizzing butterbeer overflow down his front. If Voldemort had a new way of tracking Harry, then they were in even direr need of his protection than he’d thought. This conviction only grew as Remus spoke on, telling them of Rufus Scrimgeour’s death, of Order houses burnt to the ground, of Ted and Andromeda…

“And are they bothering to give an excuse for torturing Harry’s whereabouts out of people?” Hermione demanded.

“Well…”

He hesitated before pulling the Daily Prophet from his pocket. Remus’ face may never have been splashed across a front page, but he knew what it was to be exiled - and it gave him no joy to break this news to Harry.

“Here,” he said, pushing the paper across the table, “you’ll know sooner or later anyway. That’s their pretext for going after you.”

Harry smoothed it out and his mouth hardened to a stoic line. As if he was their teacher once more, Remus laid out Voldemort’s strategy to them - the smooth coup, the puppet Minister, the artful spread of suspicion across the population.

“…unless you can prove that you have at least one close wizarding relative, you are now deemed to have obtained your magical power illegally and must suffer the punishment,” he finished.

“What if purebloods and halfbloods swear a muggleborn’s part of their family?” Ron protested. “I’ll tell everyone Hermione’s my cousin.”

Ron looked at Hermione with such familiar bright-eyed defiance that Remus had to glance away. Only when Hermione changed the subject to ask about Hogwarts was he able to concentrate once more.

“It’s…” Harry said, looking sickened at the news of the muggleborns’ exclusion, “it’s…”

“I know,” said Remus.

There was a pause and Remus readied himself. He’d memorised the carefully chosen words and the time had come to deliver them.

“I’ll understand if you can’t confirm this, Harry, but the Order is under the impression that Dumbledore left you a mission.”

“He did. Ron and Hermione are in on it and they’re coming with me.”

“Can you confide in me what the mission is?”

“I can’t, Remus. I’m sorry. If Dumbledore didn’t tell you, I don’t think I can.”

Though Remus had anticipated this possible rebuttal, had even rehearsed how to respond, it grieved him no less to hear it.

“I thought you’d say that,” he said. “But I may still be of some use to you. You know what I am and what I can do. I could come with you to provide protection. There would be no need to tell me exactly what you were up to.”

Though he’d appealed directly to Harry, it was Hermione who responded. She looked confused.

“But what about Tonks?”

“What about her?”

She flinched. “Well, you’re married! How does she feel about you going away with us?”

The question seemed an absurdity. He was parted from Tonks. The earth was scorched, the ground salted behind him.

“Tonks will be perfectly safe. She’ll be at her parents’ house.”

Harry and Ron’s faces twitched into frowns to match Hermione’s.

“Remus,” Hermione said slowly, ‘is everything alright…you know…between you and - ?”

“Everything is fine, thank you.”

Hermione bit her lip and twisted her fingers together. The three of them stared at him across the table, the lie hanging in the kitchen’s smoky air.

“Tonks is going to have a baby.”

It was as much truth as he could stand giving them: just enough, he hoped, for them to grasp his wretchedness and more than enough to shock them into never mentioning it again. But although it felt to Remus like he’d just thumped something oozing and repulsive onto the table between them, their faces leapt into surprised smiles.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Hermione cried.

“Excellent!” Said Ron.

“Congratulations,” said Harry.

Remus’ own face mimicked them automatically, but he felt sick. He had to return the conversation to its proper course. Absolution for what he had done was impossible, but they had to let him help them. They had to.

“So…do you accept my offer? Will three become four? I cannot believe Dumbledore would have disapproved, he appointed me your Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, after all. And I must tell you that I believe we are facing magic many of us have never encountered or imagined.”

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry. Harry should have appeared pleased - or, at the very least, relieved - but instead Remus struggled to read his expression.

“Just - just to be clear,” he said. “You want to leave Tonks at her parents’ house and come away with us?”

“She’ll be perfectly safe there, they’ll look after her.”

When Harry said nothing, Remus leaned forward in his chair. “Harry, I’m sure James would have wanted me to stick with you.”

“Well,” he said slowly, “I’m not. I’m pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren’t sticking with your own kid, actually.”

Remus’ heart tripped on its rhythm.

“You don’t understand.”

“Explain, then.”

Harry’s voice was cold, interrogatory. It was uncanny to see Lily’s eyes in James’ face when they belonged to a person Remus didn’t recognise: a person suddenly devoid of reason, of mercy.

“I - ” Remus began.

He was barely able to catch his breath. A chill - like that of de-robing on the brink of a full moon - was coming over him and a hiss of white noise was gathering in his brain.

“I made a grave mistake in marrying Tonks. I did it against my better judgement and I have regretted it very much ever since.”

“I see, so you’re just going to dump her and the kid and run off with us?”

Instinct moved him. Ron and Hermione jumped in their seats, staring up at him in fright - but the fear in their eyes only enraged Remus more, evidence as it was of the ignorance and cruelty of the world and every person in it: whether they loved him or hated him, rejected him or clung to him, they were all the same; none of them understood - none of them _wanted_ to understand - and Remus couldn’t stand it anymore. He had never asked to be born or to be cursed, to become monstrous, to make Tonks fall in catastrophic love with him but it had all happened and he was undone: a traitor to himself, a traitor to her, ruined and good for nothing but war - and if these three stupid, lost children could not comprehend that then he would make them.

“Don’t you understand what I’ve done to my wife and my unborn child? I should never have married her, I’ve made her an outcast!”

His voice echoed from every corner, filling the room, tormenting him. Remus kicked his fallen chair which skidded across the floor to smash against the wall.

“You have only ever seen me amongst the Order, or under Dumbledore’s protection at Hogwarts! You don’t know how most of the wizarding world sees creatures like me! When they know of my affliction, they can barely talk to me! Don’t you see what I’ve done? Even her own family is disgusted by our marriage, what parents want their only daughter to marry a werewolf? And the child - the child - ”

He yanked at his hair. He wanted to dash his head against the wall at the thought of the baby: the scarless werewolf, the helpless innocent cursed by its father.

“My kind don’t usually breed! It will be like me, I am convinced of it - how can I forgive myself, when I knowingly risked passing on my own condition to an innocent child? And if, by some miracle, it is not like me, then it will be better off, a hundred times so, without a father of whom it must always be ashamed!”

“Remus!” Whispered Hermione, tears of pity springing to her eyes. “Don’t say that - how could any child be ashamed of you?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Hermione,” said Harry. “I’d be pretty ashamed of him.”

Harry was on his feet too. Remus glared at him: this boy who thought he was a man; this ungrateful, unschooled boy who would gamble with the very future of their world out of naive principle; this green boy who had the gall to reject the life that Remus was trying to lay down for him, refusing to grant him even a flake of redemption, spurning his help, reducing him to worse than nothing.

“If the new regime thinks muggleborns are bad, what will they do to a half-werewolf whose father’s in the Order? My father died trying to protect my mother and me, and you reckon he’d tell you to abandon your kid and go on an adventure with us?”

Remus stuttered with the pure shock of it. “How - how dare you? This is not about a desire for - for danger or personal glory - how dare you suggest such a - ”

“I think you’re feeling a bit of a daredevil,” said Harry, his voice steeped in contempt. “You fancy stepping into Sirius’ shoes.”

“Harry, no!” Hermione cried, frightened by whatever she saw in Remus’ frozen face.

“I’d never have believed this. The man who taught me to fight dementors - a coward.”

Faster than a blink, Remus’ wand was in his hand. He surrendered to his terrible thirst, to his shadow’s boundless fury, and he blasted Harry off his feet, sending him slamming hard against the wall, his head striking the stone.

And then he ran.

——-

From a bridge suspended between two cliffs, to a tidal beach with city lights reflected on inky water, to a low and dripping canal-side tunnel, Remus stopped long enough to see only a flash of every scene; forcing his body to crush itself through space again and again, as if the speed and the wind of travel could shake off the word -

_Coward_

\- as if every snap of displacement could squeeze the urges - to tear and hurt and rip - out of him, the urges that the word -

_Coward_

\- had spawned in his brain, as if fleeing and fleeing again could block out the full moon burning inside him. He didn’t stop, even when he lost the third fingernail, even when a dizzy buzz howled in his ears -

_Coward_

\- he kept going until finally he turned his ankle on uneven moorland and fell to the springy ground. The air he drew into his searing lungs was laced with something acrid and his eyeballs stung. He forced himself up onto shaking wrists and saw nothing but a dark horizon, smoke rising like grey snakes from the ground. When he crawled forwards, he found the burnt bones of the cottage. There was nothing for him here, only ash and charred heather beneath an accusing sky, and he knew he must go instead to the one place of shelter he had left: the hole he’d tried to forget, the pit that had waited for him all these long years.

Inside the shack, Remus pressed his face to the black mould of the damp wall and screamed his shame to it. He dragged his bleeding fingers down the old claw marks, fresh blood sliding down the splintered wood to join the faded stains. His brow was wet with sweat and his clothes clung to him. The nape of his neck was burning as the realisation sank in. He was the wolf now, he was an animal, he was wilfully cruel, lustily violent, he was everything he had so desperately wanted to believe a werewolf didn’t have to be, he had fallen to the lowest fate of his blood. He clutched his scar and dug his fingers into the flesh, trying to pierce the skin’s surface as Greyback once did; Greyback who was now victorious, his progeny finally the monster he’d hoped he would become.

_I harmed Harry_. He may not have lashed out with his hands, but that made the act no less savage. He’d hurt his best friends’ son, Sirius’ godson, a boy who deserved his protection - for nothing more than the crime of telling Remus the truth of what kind of beast he really was.

_I made Tonks suffer_. He’d punished her for loving him, crushed her heart, taken her love and bludgeoned her with it.

_I abandoned my baby._ Remus pushed his bleeding fingers through his hair and sank to the ground. _I am a coward._

Faces assailed him - Tonks, Harry, Sirius, James, Lily, Dumbledore, Mad Eye, his mother, his father - they had all trusted him and he’d let them down, every one.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Greyback and his werewolves had been right about one thing: Remus wasn’t like the people who had loved him. He didn’t belong with them. He was a waste of love, a waste of breath, and now he was wailing; haunting the place like he used to. He wasn’t a ghost, but he felt barely alive. The life before him was a narrowing tunnel with a pinprick of dying light. He couldn’t go on feeling this way, it was impossible to endure: he couldn’t live each day drenched in guilt, each night wrapped in the torturous reality of what he had become. He couldn’t live a life in which the full moon became his only respite, its horror an escape from an even worse pain.

Remus pressed his thumb and forefinger to either side of his throat, feeling the veins twitch. The throbbing of blood was a privilege he didn’t deserve. It wasn’t right, wasn’t natural, when the pulses of all those so much better than himself had been stopped. He remembered the step he’d once taken towards the veil. This time the hall was empty. He was alone and drawing nearer. He was falling weightlessly, easily, through the archway. Descending and ascending at the same time, the curse loosening its grip and drifting from him, his broken body following, his name detaching itself and leaving him free, in flight, travelling deeper into a nothingness that was neither dark nor light, where there was no pain.

Remus opened his eyes, relaxed his pressing fingers, and felt his heartbeat slow. Calm, precious calm, stole over him. Hadn’t part of him always known it would come to this? There was, and always had been, only one way to cure a werewolf. He got slowly to his feet and smoothed down his clothes, took out his wand and felt the weight of it, examined the cypress grain. It was a friend. It was nothing to be afraid of. He touched his scar again, but softly this time, vengefully: the thing would die with him.

Not here though. He wouldn’t lay himself to rest in the Shrieking Shack. Perhaps he would go to the beach on which he and Tonks had made love on their wedding night: he could float facedown on the waves, the salt in his lungs like the salt he’d licked from her skin. Or perhaps he would find peace in the forest where they’d once embraced under blooming Spring leaves - but no, Remus didn’t want to corrupt those places of beauty. Better by far to fly out to sea, to glide and soar with Tonks' wild abandon before slipping away…but he had no broomstick - and he did not wish for his final act to be the theft of one - where then…and how…?

The world he was trying to leave behind tugged at Remus, insistent, muddying his thoughts. He tried to focus on the nothingness again, but all the details of the _something_ ness wouldn’t leave him. He didn’t want Tonks or Harry to know. Even though it was _for_ them, not because of them, that he must do this, he knew they would not see it that way. They hated him but their hearts were too loving not to falsely blame themselves and Remus wanted to free them, not leave them with a legacy of yet more heartache. But the only other solution - faking a Death Eater confrontation - was wrong too. He couldn’t allow himself to be remembered as a hero.

He had to find a way to bow out unnoticed. So many of his friends had already crossed the threshold, all he had to do was follow, but…Remus began to pace, panic tangling his brain…no, there could be no buts, he had no choice, the pain would never leave him otherwise…it would always be with him… _always_. He tried to reclaim the peace he’d felt when the permanence of death had first offered itself to him, but a different will other than the will to oblivion was working upon him, muffling death’s sirens and forcing him to look away from the pain he was trying to convince himself would never end and towards another pain instead… _another’s_ pain…

_“Please don’t leave.”_

He remembered the words, not as spoken to him, but as if spoken by him and when he wrapped his arms around himself, it wasn’t bloody sweaty robes concealing a bite scar that he felt, but velvet concealing a body changing in ways she hardly understood. Instead of seething self-disgust, he felt the high, pure sorrow of abandonment. Remus felt every cruel word as a twisting stab to the gut, the wounds coming again and again, and he spoke her name, seeing himself through her eyes: the man she loved, transformed into something unrecognisable, an adult changeling.

“Body and soul,” Remus whispered, feeling Tonks’ lips move, letting her words fill him, trying to understand what they could mean in the face of such terrible betrayal. “Forever.”

More lasting than marriage vows, more binding than death, they spoke of a love that no amount of suffering could overthrow. Even as he renounced her as his wife, even as he split her heart apart, even as she teetered on the edge of control with a wand pointed at his chest, still Tonks wanted Remus to live, still she held out a hand for him to grasp, still she refused to believe his pain in life was truly endless.

_But I don’t have the strength, Dora. How can I bear to face you after everything I’ve done? How can I endure the rest of my life?_

———-

Remus entered the graveyard through the kissing gate. With his head bowed and hooded, he passed through the deserted lines of tombstones. Though he had come here only the once before, he knew the way. Soon he was kneeling before the patch of ground that Lily and James shared.

“Help me.”

Remus pressed his hands against the earth, his fingers sinking between the blades of grass.

“Help me,” he begged them, begging his mother and Sirius too, “please.”

On the night the phoenix song had guided him, it had felt as if the dead themselves had reached out across the divide to tell him what he must do. But they weren’t speaking to him now. He was alone and, wherever they were - if indeed they were anywhere at all - they couldn’t hear him. They kept their peace for themselves and left none behind for the living.

_Just as there would be no peace for Tonks if I truly left her._ Remus dipped his gaze, holding the thought tight. It wouldn’t be freedom to cut his own life short, but banishment; a denial of all other possibilities -

_But I don’t deserve any other possibilities._ His mind warred against itself, different perceptions jostling to take position as reality. His stomach curdled with sour bile as he recalled his many cruelties. How could he even consider darkening Tonks’ door once more? Hadn’t he hurt her enough already? Besides, she would never forgive him. She said it herself. Their marriage was over.

_There are other ways to love someone._ If he bore the guilt, if he found the courage to carry the regret without letting it break him, there was good he could still do for her. If not as a husband, then as a friend - even if it took years to earn the right to call himself even that.

_I could do my best to be a father._ At that, Remus began to cry. Not the hacking sobs of before, but clean, silent, blazing tears. For the first time in his life, he let himself imagine his own child in his arms and the brand new love hit him with the force of an avalanche. Tonks had been right about him. He had always, always, wanted a family of his own - and whatever shape his family would take, two werewolves or one, Remus still had the chance to make sure his baby knew it had two parents who loved it without question - and a father who would never turn his face away again.

James had died for his wife and child. All Remus had to do was live for his.

Closing his eyes, he remembered how Tonks had looked when she’d danced at the wedding. He hadn’t understood it then, but he did now. He could feel her wonder, her awed euphoria mingled with fear, her love for something that had not yet come to be. Remus raised his head and read the words engraved on the headstone:

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death._

He began to walk, not stopping until he was out of the village and surrounded by black fields. Mud caked the hem of his robes, his vision became hazy and the stars above him began to smudge. He had barely eaten, hardly slept in days. The grass flattened beneath him as he lay back, staring at the vastness above, the midnight blue clouds that seemed to stroke the gleaming white moon. He could smell damp earth, feel the journeys of the tiny lives that crawled within its depths, and felt himself as a part of it all. The moon waxed, but it also waned. Death would come for him one day, but he did not have to hurry it.

His mind still streamed with shame, fear, self-hatred - and he knew that some portion of it always would - but perhaps that was alright. Because, however loud his shadow thoughts had become, they’d never truly succeeded in drowning out the rest of him. He was still the professor, smiling as his quill marked the parchment of a troubled student starting to excel; still the man who counted his blessings with a hot mug between his hands as he watched the dusk burn pink before a new moon; still the happy little boy in his father’s favourite photo, untouched by any curse and laughing on.

His lips moved, forming silent words of gratitude, “I am Remus John Lupin, werewolf, sometimes known as Moony, one of the four creators of the Marauder’s Map, married to Nymphadora, usually known as Tonks, and I taught you how to use a Patronus, Harry, which takes the form of a stag.”

It was time to go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone out there is struggling, don't forget there is always help available: 
> 
> [Click here for a list of crisis lines](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines)


	13. Crushed Glass

**Chapter 13: Crushed Glass**

It couldn’t be called sleep. Whatever it was, it dragged Tonks from half-dream to half-dream, from one twisted memory to another, out of her body and back into it again. Sometimes her searching fingers found the folds of a collar among the endless sheets, her closed eyes met with an answering pair - a pair with pupils that were tiny in the remembered morning sunshine, ringed by flecks of grey - and she twitched herself awake, returning to the long night, to the bed that would never feel like hers.

Wrapped in darkness and staring at the walls, Tonks’ grief was a cliff edge. Shock kept her feet on solid rock but she could only tiptoe along the edge for so long. If she let herself feel the whole truth of what had happened she would fall. In those moments, when the wind howled inside her head, she slid her hand under her pillow and pulled out her wand. Its cool tip travelled beneath the silk pyjamas her mother had leant her and traced a tingling line across her abdomen. Tonks lay still, listening to the not-quite-heartbeat, making sure it wasn’t about to leave her too.

Seagulls screamed outside the window as night blurred into morning. The sun burnt through the slats of the window shutters, illuminating the room Tonks occupied in a house where everything was white and smelled like paint. Her bones were heavy as wood, her breasts throbbed, a poking finger of pain invaded her temple. Tonks tried to breathe through the gathering nausea as her guts trickled into their daily rebellion, but it wasn’t long until she heard the door open and slippered feet cross the room to gently deposit something on the bedside table. A hand stroked the clammy tangle of hair on her forehead, but Tonks only stirred when the door was shut again. Then she reached for the mug, gulped the liquid down without bothering to wipe the drips from her chin, and laid her head back on the damp, gingery pillow.

The sun moved. A spider scuttled from one corner to another. Tonks’ eyes focused and unfocused on the white criss-cross threads of the sheets. She must have slept at some point because she jumped when -

“Beautiful day!”

The shutters clattered open. Tonks wriggled deeper.

“There’s lunch ready downstairs. Carrot and coriander soup with some nice hot baps.”

The top of the duvet was peeled back and light flooded in.

“There she is!”

Tonks groaned. “Can you just bring it up, Dad?”

Ted’s face sagged a little, the worried crinkles around his eyes deepening, but his smile stayed on. “Course I can, love.”

Once he had gone, Tonks pushed herself up into sitting and slumped her forehead against her palm. Bright yellow hair still spiralled all around her, not a mousey strand in sight: it made no sense and Tonks didn’t dare try to change it.

Her dad reappeared, bearing a wooden tray which he set down on her lap. “Here we go. Room service!”

Though the bowl sent soup-smelling steam barrelling into Tonks’ face and turned her stomach, she managed a closed-lipped smile. “Cheers, Dad. Looks great.”

He looked relieved and sat on the edge of the bed to watch her dunk the liberally-buttered bread roll into the yellow mush. She slurped it down then pushed the tray away, rubbing her belly as it bubbled and bloated.

“What about a walk on the beach with your mum and me later? Stretch your legs? The sea air might do you some good.”

But Tonks’ mind had already wandered, drifting away from her dad and towards the velvet dress which still lay splayed over a chair, like she’d melted out of it. It was the only thing she’d brought with her and it had clung to the very tops of her thighs when, her hair a straw mane of static and her arms mottled with browning blood, she had somehow crashed open her parents’ front door. She had never seen her mother move so fast nor her dad look so terrified. When Tonks finally put into words what had happened, Andromeda’s face was pinched with anger and her eyes round as two black pearls. “I knew it,” she’d said through gritted teeth, her blouse wetting with her daughter’s tears, “I knew he couldn’t be trusted”.

“Dora?” Ted prompted her. “What do you reckon?”

“I don’t want to hear another ‘I told you so.’”

“Oh, she didn’t mean to - ”

“Yeah, she did. It’s all turned out like she said it would, hasn’t it? I thought we were happy, but we weren’t…he wasn’t…because I - I forced it…”

“You didn’t force that man to do anything he didn’t want to do,” said Ted, suddenly fierce. “Dora, listen to me.”

He took her hand and squeezed it as Tonks wobbled on the cliff edge. She hid her face, crushing her sodden eyelashes against her mother’s monogrammed sleeve, hating herself for falling apart even earlier than yesterday, when she’d at least managed to make it to the bathroom first.

“Listen to me,” Ted repeated, his voice low and uncharacteristically growling. “You fell in love with a troubled man and that’s not your fault. If he’s too weak to do right by you, too stupid to appreciate what a wonder you are, that’s on him - not you.”

Andromeda appeared in the doorway.

“I always knew you deserved better,” she said, her voice quiet and brittle. “But I never thought it would come to this.”

Tonks glared at her. “You went behind my back.”

Her mother twisted a handkerchief in her hands. “I’m so sorry, my darling,” she whispered.

Tonks didn’t yell, didn’t hurl a pillow like she wanted to, instead she held out her arms like a child. Andromeda rushed to her side, creasing her skirt as she pulled Tonks close. Sagging in her parents’ embrace, Tonks felt another piece break off her heart: her child would never know what this was like.

“Feel…like…I’ve…let you…down,” Tonks had to hiccup out the words.

“Of course you haven’t!”

“Don’t you dare think that,” Ted took the handkerchief from Andromeda and started dabbing haphazardly at Tonks’ face, “we’re as proud of you as we’ve ever been.”

“That man isn’t worthy of your tears,” said Andromeda.

“No, he bloody well isn’t,” Ted agreed, “and you’re going to be just fine without him - better than fine! Just you wait and see.”

“He’s…going off to…get himself killed and I’ll…never see him…and the baby…won’t know him…I could’ve…I should’ve…”

“You did everything you could. You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved,” said Ted.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Tonks leant her body forward off the bed, “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Yes, you do,” said Andromeda, pulling her back up by the shoulders and smoothing the hair from her face, fire in her eyes. “You’re Nymphadora Tonks. Our daughter. You’ve inherited every ounce of spirit and conviction your father and I had to give. You’ve got the steeled blood of the Black family and the blazing heart of the Tonks, you will get through this.”

“And we’ll be here to take care of you every step of the way - you _and_ our little grandchild. Blimey, it hasn’t quite sunk in yet…”

“Love you,” said Tonks through a cracking throat.

And she did - too much to tell them that all she wanted was to go home, to return to the place that no longer existed, that Remus had taken with him when he left her.

Later, she lay on top of the covers listening to their muffled discussion about her. It took her an hour to get out of bed, another thirty minutes to brush her teeth and wash her face, another fifteen to stare disinterestedly at a rising cluster of spots on her chin. She couldn’t face the shower, so shuffled to her parents’ bedroom to raid their wardrobe: jeans belonging to Andromeda, work boots and a t-shirt with muggle cartoons on it belonging to Ted. Resentfully, she wielded her mother’s hairbrush and allowed it to detangle her yellow hair until it became fluffy, then let it soar around her head, folding the thick tresses onto her crown like a pom-pom. She hated it, but anything was better than her hair’s tickling length when loose: reminding her of dancing, of independence, of choice - everything that she had lost.

When she eventually made her way downstairs, her parents stood up at the sight of her.

“I’m going back.”

They exchanged alarmed expressions.

“Just to get my stuff,” she added.

“Are you sure you’re ready, darling? Don’t you want to give it a little more time? We’ve got everything you need right here, you don’t need - ”

“I want to get it over with.”

“Why don’t I come along with you?” Said Ted. “We’ll pack your things up together.”

“No!” Tonks flushed at the thought of her dad seeing the smashed windows and broken crockery. “No, thanks…I want to go alone.”

“Nymphadora, I don’t want you going back to that house by yourself.”

“It’s fine, Mum. Honestly. There’s no safer place - Mad Eye made sure of that - and I won’t be gone long. I just need to…” she ended the sentence with a shrug.

Her parents didn’t reply. Their eyes followed her uncertainly to the front door.

“I’ll be okay,” she told them, one foot already out on the sunny street.

“At least give us the address - !” Ted called, but she was already gone.

As soon as her heels met the forest floor - the exact spot between the nettles where Remus had vanished - Tonks felt anything but okay. _Taigh Dorcha_ loomed darkly before her, seeming to repel the sunlight. Punctured by tree branches, with every window blown in and the front door banging in the breeze, it looked on the verge of crumpling, like the forest could crunch it up at any second. She began to retrace Remus’ steps of departure. Her palm itched. She wished she’d cursed him. She wished she’d thrown him into the basement like the monster he was so eager to prove himself to be.

Her boots crushed shards of glass into powder on the floorboards. There was a sweet, sticky smell from the sour milk and porridge oats crusted on the wall. Tonks stood, unmoving, breathing raggedly and staring around at what the life she’d fought for had been reduced to. _Fetch your stuff and get out._ The longer she stayed inside this shell, the closer her new reality would come to dawning on her. _Get out._

She ran to the bedroom but had to stop at the threshold and grip the doorframe for support. There was the bed they’d lain in together. There was the pillow he’d rested his head upon. There were all the little things he would never be coming back for: his books, his parchment notes all lined with his handwriting, the record player Hope had left behind for her son. Tonks stumbled forward and launched herself at the chest of drawers. She rifled through pants, tops, bras, pulling items out at random, strewing them over the floor, forgetting what she was supposed to be doing.

She sat down on the bed and her hand came to rest on something. She looked down at it: a shirt. It was perfectly folded, the sleeves crossed neatly on its front. Remus had worn it at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Tonks pictured him returning from the Burrow, entering their bedroom, changing into his travelling clothes, preparing himself with such methodical care - and then she was tearing at it, pulling at the seams, ripping stitches with nails and teeth, creaking the fabric apart in her fingers, snapping the threads to free every button, peeling strips from it in the name of his victory over her, in the name of all her wasted, helpless, homeless love.

But the material was saturated with him, had touched his bare skin only days ago and it still smelt of the champagne she had spilt, of faint sweet sweat and of Remus, Remus, Remus, and Tonks weakened until all she could do was press the torn fragments to her face. She wept her pain into it, as shattered and bewildered as if he’d left only moments ago, begging for none of it to have happened, for her tender, courageous husband who loved her more than anything in the world to still exist: she bargained for him, called to him, sobbed to drown out the premonition that the next time she would see him he would be laid out, eyes shut, icy to the touch, peaceful and out of her reach forever. She could barely breathe with the sadness, it kept coming and coming. Her hand found her stomach: she had to shield the baby, she had to numb it all, she had to rest. Tonks crawled across the bed, sank her face into Remus’ pillow and curled up,

A noise woke her. She thrashed, finding her wand, but it was only branches banging against the sill of the broken window. The wind had risen and night had fallen as she’d slept. The curtains swirled above the bed like a pair of ghosts and the twisted shadows of the forest danced on the walls in the part-moonlight. The house groaned and the bedroom door slammed shut, sucked by the breeze galloping through the rooms. Tonks eased herself off the bed, shivering though the night was warm, groggy with nameless dread.

“ _Lumos_.”

Light burst in a golden dome from her wand, casting its rays into every corner of the bedroom and out into the trees beyond. Almost immediately, Tonks heard knocking. There was someone at the front door. Prickles walked from the base of her spine to the back of her neck: only the most skilful of her enemies could have unravelled Mad Eye’s secrets. Tonks knew she should take her broomstick and climb out the back window, but a strange hunger stopped her: she may be sacked, pregnant, shoved aside, but she still knew how to fight.

“ _Nox_.”

She silenced her feet and crept slowly down the stairs as three more raps sounded.

“Dora? Tonks? Are you there?”

She froze. It was a flawless imitation of his voice. Polyjuice.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Remus.”

Tonks stalked closer, bitter longing turning to cold fire in her belly. “Just when I thought you lot couldn’t get any more inept. My husband’s left me, so drop the act.”

“It’s me. Truly.”

With those words, Tonks could pinpoint the rough location of the heart. She would need to fire two spells: the first to break the wood, the second to stun. Then it would be a simple case of capture, restrain and summon the rest of the Order for a round of questioning - or, the other option…

“Prove it or I’ll kill you.”

Tonks raised her wand, every nerve in her body poised to react, and waited. She didn’t know why she was giving them such a chance or why, even as the seconds turned to minutes, she still did not strike, but then she heard a whisper and - her arm dropped, her head started shaking - a silvery white shape leapt through the door. Tonks staggered backwards, but the jack rabbit soared in a ring around her, staining her vision with bright patches, before stopping in front of her, its shimmering ears waving. When its glow faded and its outline was lost to the shadows, Tonks sank to the floor.

“Are you there? Are you alright?”

Her back pressed hard against the door, Tonks buried her face in her knees, quieted her throat and opened her mouth in a silent scream. She felt too much, it couldn’t be contained: a thousand emotions fusing into a single cry of outrage whilst relief, disorientating as vertigo, turned the floor to air beneath her.

“Please answer me. Are you alright?”

When the cry formed into a word, she let it ring out.

“ _Why_?”

It took Remus some time to choose a meaning. Through the thick wood that divided them and the emotion distorting his voice, she almost couldn’t understand him.

“I’ve come back because leaving you was the worst mistake, the greatest crime, of my life.”

Tonks tried to shout, but her voice came out as a hoarse squeak. “I should curse you into next week.”

“You can if you wish.”

The words streamed from her like morning vomit. “You fucking bastard. You complete ratbag. You hideous, disgusting hypocrite. You’ve got some guts to come crawling back, Remus Lupin, you really do. Tell me the real reason you’re here. If it’s to apologise, you can get the fuck off my doorstep and away from me because I don’t want to hear it, do you understand? You’ll get no sympathy from me, I’ll spit on your worthless apologies, I’ll jinx you if you start bleating about your great fucking ‘crime’, your ‘mistake’, I am not your doormat anymore, you saw to that yourself, didn’t you? You ditched me, remember?”

“I know I have no right to be here, to even speak to you, I - I know that…but…please…please…”

Tonks’ fingers dug into her palms as her hands pressed into fists. “Please _what_? What do you want from me?”

The door trembled and Tonks heard his back sliding down the other side.

“Tonks, I - I lost myself…”

They were barely two inches apart. She could hear the catch in his throat as he breathed. Her insults were on the tip of her tongue, ready to defend her, but she held them back, pressing her cheek against the rough wood.

“Some things are so unforgivable as to reduce all apologies into insults,” he said rapidly, “but if this is my final chance, my last precious opportunity to speak to you, then I must…I _must_ …tell you that I’m sick with regret, that I wish, desperately, so desperately, that I could take back every cruel thing I said to you, that I’ll never stop grieving the life you offered me that I threw away,” shuffling sounds came from behind the door and Tonks heard Remus make a noise, like a low moan, before continuing, “these words are pathetic, I know that, I know they cannot heal your suffering and they’re impossible for you to trust, but I have to try, I have to take responsibility,” Tonks had to close her eyes to follow his fast speech, holding her knuckles to her teeth to stop the scream from overflowing again. “I know that no one has ever hurt you like I have hurt you and that perhaps no one ever could. Whether or not I believe I’m worthy of that power is irrelevant, I still wielded it against you on that awful morning. I inflicted misery on you because I was too afraid to step up and be the husband you deserved. When you needed comfort and strength, all you received from me was rejection. I dredged up every ounce of hatred and shame I felt towards myself and directed it towards you. I have no excuse, only this poor explanation. I let myself drift so far away from the person you married until he was a stranger to us both. I saw your world crumbling around you because you’d dared to love me. All I could see for our future together was failure and estrangement. What began as a nagging worry in the early days of our marriage became a demon on my shoulder and when you told me you were pregnant I came apart entirely. For infecting an innocent, I no longer saw myself as worthy of walking in this human shape and I convinced myself that the best thing I could do for you, for our baby, for everyone, was to sacrifice myself to the cause of making our world safer - and the only way to do that was to cut away the ties of love that bound you to me, sparing you - you who were already so damaged by our relationship - and the wretched child from the taint of my company. But I was wrong. I should have stayed with you and honoured my vows. I should have found a way to see myself as a father instead of as a monster. I should not have seen our unborn child as wretched, but as blessed - blessed to have you for a mother. I could try and blame my condition for my behaviour, but I won’t. It was me. I hurt you. I failed you. I betrayed all of our memories and I take full responsibility for the collapse of our marriage.”

Tonks stared, unseeing, into the dark living room, every vein in her body tingling. “Is that it? Is that all you’ve come back to say?”

“No. I’ve also come back to tell you that, whatever you decide, I will always be here for you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I swear I will do everything in my power to support you and our baby. From this night until my last night, I will never again bring destruction or chaos into your life. I will be steadfast. I will be stable. I will defend you both to the death. Near or far, I will be everything, _anything_ , you want me to be. No matter what happens, I’ll here for you. Always.”

Tonks couldn’t speak. Her pulse pounded the seconds away.

“Tonks? Are you alright? Is the baby alright? Please tell me. Please.”

_Please_. The word cut her like a knife. When she had pleaded with him, he had been pitiless. She shoved her elbows backwards, making the door shake in its frame.

“You expect me to believe you’ve flip-flopped from one extreme to the other? You stopped giving a toss about me as soon as you found out I was pregnant. You made it very clear our baby was worth nothing to you. You couldn’t wait to get shot of us two days ago and now you’re crying to me with all these pretty promises. You’re only here because something’s gone wrong with your plan to join Harry. Admit it.”

There was a long pause and Tonks rammed the door with her back.

“Admit it!”

“It happened just as you said it would. They saw straight through me. Harry called me a coward.”

“Right. I get it. They sent you packing and now you’re trying to weasel back in with your second choice?”

“No! I’m sure it seems that way, but no… I went to Grimmauld Place, believing in my ridiculous conceit that they needed me, that joining them was my only option, but when Harry accused me, he shattered my illusions. He goaded me, insulted me, laid the truth bare until I could no longer deny it. I couldn’t stand the realisation of what I had become, so I cursed him.”

“You did _what_?

“I blasted him off his feet and then ran from the house.”

Stunned, Tonks lowered her forehead onto one knee. “Remus…”

“Again, I could blame my condition, but I won’t. I’ve ruined our marriage, I’ve let down every single person I’ve ever loved, I’ve caused untold harm…but I’ve reached the bottom and I can’t go any lower. I’ve picked through the remains of my life and decided how I should go on - and it’s all about you, Tonks. You and our baby. I’m not asking you for anything and I don’t expect you to trust me, not yet, not without proof, but I hope one day to earn the right to call myself a father - and to be your friend once more.”

“And if our baby’s a werewolf? If it comes out at the full moon and it’s the world’s tiniest lycanthrope puppy? Or if it’s not and you decide it’s crying out of embarrassment for having a werewolf father - how long after the birth will you wait before chipping off again? After the cord gets cut or before?”

“I will never abandon you again. Never.”

Tonks covered her ears, but her hands trembled too much to keep out the sound.

“I will give our child endless love and compassion. Even if it despises me, I’ll do whatever it takes to give it the care it needs. If you never want to see me again, that’s fine, I will respect any decision you make. Just know that, no matter the distance between us, I’ll always come running if you need me. I’ll be tireless. I’ll never, ever, leave you again.”

“You’ve broken…” Tonks wheezed, her words strangled, her face soaked, “every promise….you’ve ever made me.”

“Not every promise,” Remus’ voice was as cracked as hers, “I promised to love you. And I do. I love you. I love you completely.”

Tonks tried to elbow the door again, but her limbs were too weak. She pressed her cheek against the wood and knew that Remus was crying with her on the other side. It took a long time for her tears to slow.

“Please can I see you?” Remus asked her. “Even if it’s for the last time. Please.”

Tonks’ head buzzed and ached too much for her to think. She raised her face to the ceiling, wiped her eyes and nose, blew at her hot cheeks then stood up. She straightened her spine, pushed her shoulders back and pulled on the handle so the door swung slowly open.

And there he was. Getting to his feet, taller somehow, thinner, wincing at the crackle of crushed glass as he stepped inside, he was real. When their eyes met, two days felt like two years. Neither of them spoke and Tonks knew that he, like she, saw memory overlaying the room: the spectres of who they had once been shouting and smashing and hurting each other, moving all around them. Tonks tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“I, um…I’ve been at Mum and Dad’s,” she said eventually, “I only came back here to get my stuff.”

“I - I see. You should return to them, of - of course. I’m here for you, always, but I don’t expect you to live under the same roof as me. You should go when you’re packed and ready - or you should stay and I’ll leave - whatever makes you feel most comfortable - ”

“Where’ve you been?” Tonks interrupted him, softly. “If Harry didn’t take you then…where’ve you been?”

“I - well - it took me some time to - to find them. And then, afterwards, I…”

He trailed off. Tonks stared at him. There was blood in his hair and coating the tips of a few of his fingers. His hem was muddied and there was a rip in his travelling cloak. Something in his eyes turned her stomach to ice water. He really had lost himself. But he was back, he was really back, safe in these four walls in the heart of the forest. Tonks tried to imagine packing her things and walking out, returning to the limbo of her parents’ house, but couldn’t. It only took a second of deliberation for her to realise the decision was already made; made unconsciously at the very moment her hand stretched out to open the door; made consciously back in the dusty, halcyon haze of the Weasleys’ chicken coup. She may not have faith in Remus, but she had faith in herself. Tonks wanted to grow her baby at home, no matter how broken that home had become.

“Would you like some time to think? To be alone? I can leave if - ”

“No. You’re not going anywhere. And neither am I.”

Remus’ eyes widened. “Tonks. I… Are you _sure_?”

“You’re our baby’s father. You always will be.”

He drew in and let out a breath like he’d just run a marathon. Hope lit up his face and he gazed at her with a joy she hadn’t seen since the first week of their marriage. But Tonks couldn’t smile. It was all too late.

“But this isn’t the first time you’ve left me.”

Remus collected himself, his attention on her rapt but resigned. He knew what was coming.

“And it’s not the first time you’ve come back, promising the world, swearing you’ve changed, saying all the right stuff. I forgave you last time. I took you back. Not this time. I can’t be with you anymore…not in that way, not like before…”

Remus nodded, swallowed. “I understand.”

“I just can’t do it,” Tonks could only whisper now: she was so tired, so sad down to her very bones.

“It’s alright.”

His eyes were kind. She had begged for that kindness on the day he left. Tonks could tell Remus wanted to hold her and she herself was dizzy with longing for it, but he didn’t move. He knew she would never allow it. She would not surrender her pride in return for comfort: their baby deserved better than that.

“So, I want you to sleep here,” Tonks pointed at the sofa, “and to stop telling me you love me. Okay?”

“Yes.”

He looked as though he was about to add something, then stopped: he had noticed her left hand.

“On the table,” she told him. “Where you put yours.”

Remus looked past her to where the three rings glinted together in the low light. She saw his face crumple for just a split second before he turned away, trying to spare her the sight. _We could have been so happy._ Tonks’ chest was fighting to weep, her eyes stinging at the corners, but she never wanted to cry in front of him ever again so she turned and headed for the stairs.

“Tonks?”

“I have to send a - a Patronus to my parents,” she stammered, her boots hammering the floorboards. “Tell them I’ll b-be staying.”

“Tonks, wait!”

She whirled around. Remus stood at the foot of the stairs, one hand gripping the bannister.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day ;)


	14. Purgatories

**Chapter 14: Purgatories**

“Nymphadora…please…this is insanity…”

Remus gripped the bannister to keep himself upright as the voice from Andromeda’s patronus penetrated the ceiling. The walls of the devastated living room rippled in his peripheral vision, the shadows deceiving him until they could belong instead to the claw-streaked Shrieking Shack and Remus wanted suddenly to seize a handful of the broken glass and squeeze it until the blood oozed through his fingers; wanted to run upstairs, to tell Tonks to leave him, to quit this crumbling hole and return to her parents. But he did neither. He only listened to the floorboards creak as she chose again and again to stay, gratitude singing through him, calling up strength he hadn’t known he possessed. _Be worthy of her choice_ , he told himself, _start now_.

Wind barrelled through the room and ruffled Remus’ hair. He breathed it in, tasting the forest, then set to work. He scoured the walls clean of milky stains and grime; picked every piece of shattered porcelain up by hand and knitted them back together with his wand; raised every sliver of glass into the air and fused them into a twisting glob of molten orange that pushed back the invading trees and filled the empty panes. He banished every cobweb, mended every stitch, smoothed away every splinter. In the cool light of dawn, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He didn’t look stable, nor steadfast, nor anything like a worthy father-to-be. He washed, tamed his hair, got some hot food down himself before settling on the sofa where, untethered from distraction, he found searing regret waiting for him in every crevice. Tears came before sleep did.

He woke to rapid footsteps and a distant retching. Disorientated, he wriggled, fell hard onto the floor, then dragged himself up and ran to the kitchen. Halfway through preparing her remedy, his stomach lurched, remembering his cold, exacting hands of four mornings ago. Shame pinched at him and he had to double over on the counter, panting, before he could begin again. He didn’t dare place even one foot on the stairs so, when the tea was ready, he levitated it along with a plate of toast to Tonks’ door. It was hours until she came down and when she did - dressed and booted, her canary yellow hair huge and her hands thrust into denim jacket pockets - she eyed the living room without reaction.

“I’m going to Mum and Dad’s.”

“Oh.”

Sorrow settled upon him like snow. Of course she was leaving. She must have slept on her rash decision and realised that to share a house with the man who had treated her so appallingly was impossible.

"I - I understand. You - you need to do what is right for you, I - ”

“Just for a visit,” she cut him off flatly, “they’re not exactly thrilled about this new…situation. I promised them I’d pop round this morning.”

“Oh,” Remus said again as she headed for the door. “Should I come with you?”

Tonks turned slowly, one eyebrow cocked. “If you value the bits that got us into this mess, I strongly suggest you don’t.”

“Right. I can’t say I blame them for feeling that way.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

His fear that she wasn’t coming back deepened with every hour that passed. But she did, bursting into the room like a storm at nine o’clock: setting his pulse racing, picking up the bowl of dinner he’d kept warm for her just in case and heading immediately for the bedroom.

She cried that night. Loud enough for him to hear, the sobs thundering out of her body, every muffled, choked whimper tormenting him. Remus forced himself to listen, to feel every inch of her cries’ lonely depths; bringing her grief inside him, though it was so huge his body seemed almost too frail to hold it. In the fine drizzle of the morning, he walked the house’s perimeter, testing and strengthening every security charm. When he returned, he was greeted by a slumping pile of his possessions, stacked haphazardly against the sofa.

The hours crawled but the days flashed by. If he and Tonks spoke at all, it was of Order business - which in itself was scant in the wake of the coup and the Voldemort-controlled Ministry wishing to project an image of normality. She was restless, coming and going without a word to him about where or when, eating in her bedroom, wearing a guarded - almost cat-like - expression in his presence. He was careful, tongue-tied, busying himself around the house like some sort of shy butler. The yellow didn’t fade from her hair but no other colours appeared either.

Day and night, thoughts picked at him like carrion crows - her life would be better if he was no longer here to remind her of all they had lost; he was nothing more than the shadow of the man she had loved, haunting her, draining her; he didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her after what he had done - and day and night he fought not to be consumed. “Never again,” he whispered the vow to her and to himself every night, “never again.”

As the first week turned into the second, Remus was lying with his face pressed against the centenarian leather of the sofa when he jumped at a sudden assault of noise from the storey above. Tonks’ anger was a clash of drums, guitars and distortions; it thudded in his chest, rattled his teeth, merged with his own in an almost unbearable cacophony. The next song that blared out was one he recognised and it brought him out in a prickling sweat, reminding him of the sour taste of too much alcohol, of his brain twisting in the midst of bright lights and revelry. He couldn’t keep still. He fled to the kitchen. The cupboards flapped open as he summoned bottle after bottle from their depths until every drink in the house was lined up on the counter. His head swam with the dark desire to swallow it all, but he raised his wand, _evanesco_ , and it was gone. The music swooped and dropped, he heard the moan of a mournful voice, and his heart bled. He dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead against the cold cupboard door. When the record player finally stopped spinning in the early hours, the silence was even worse.

Tonks took to flying at sunset. Remus didn’t like it: the thought of her becoming faint or too tired to maintain caution gnawed at him, but he knew he had no right to comment upon it. He lost his breath every time she returned, bright-eyed, windswept, utterly beautiful, but he knew he had no right to comment upon that either.

Remus took to walking long hours in the forest. He foraged for wild lavender, peppermint, sprigs of Valerian and emerald-backed beetles for potions; elderberries, strawberries the size of peas, hazelnuts and sage for cooking; dog violets, cow parsley and stitchwort to brighten the house. Sometimes he halted, moving his hand through the dappled light, taking in the scent of the leaves after heavy rainfall. One shining afternoon, he picked his way back through the brambles to find Tonks barefoot, dungarees rolled to the knees, practising her spellwork behind the house. She twirled, ducked, thrust her wand, battled her invisible foe, her face alight with concentration. Weak-fingered, Remus almost dropped his basket at the sight of her, the words she’d forbidden him crowding on his tongue.

He had always shunned the superstition held by some of his kind that no full moon was the same, but as the August moon slouched closer, Remus couldn’t deny that something felt different. The bone-deep dread, usually reserved for the final hours, settled upon him days in advance. When the evening came, Remus waited, alone and shivering, with his back to the basement door. His head jangled when Tonks arrived back from he didn’t know where. He felt a strange sliding sensation in his chest and it took him a few seconds to realise it was relief.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get out of your hair,” she snapped, though he hadn’t spoken. “I know what night it is.”

She stopped short at the sight of him.

“I’m fine,” he said, trying to sound reassuring.

She chewed a thumbnail. “How long have you got?”

“Just under an hour. I’ll be going down soon,” he had hoped to sound casual but his voice was weak. “What are your plans for the evening?”

“I dunno,” Tonks climbed halfway up the staircase then sat down. “Mum and Dad have been amazing, so I feel like a right brat saying this, but I need a bit of a breather. I swear, Mum’s going to chain me to a chair one of these days. I haven’t seen Bill and Fleur since the wedding, so maybe I’ll rock up to their place. They’ll probably spend the entire time snogging across the table though. You know how newlyweds can be.”

Remus felt the bitter prick of her barb, knowing he deserved it.

“You don’t have to go out if you don’t want to.”

In the quiet that followed, Remus felt the imperceptible movement of the sun scraping the very marrow of his bones. Tonks stared at him through the wooden slats of the staircase.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“How do you feel?”

“You mean…this close to sundown?”

“Yeah.”

He had to draw in a breath before the words could emerge from the privacy of his mind. “I’m aching,” he said. “My joints especially. It worsens as the minutes go by. My heart rate is becoming erratic, my body temperature too, which makes my flesh…creep. The…mental symptoms are a little more difficult to explain than the physical…”

“Can you try?”

Remus met her gaze and realised he could. “It’s - it’s like my mind is unstitching itself, getting ready to hide away, and there’s nothing I can do to hold it in place. The thing that haunts me, that lurks in my dreams all month, is - is drawing nearer.”

Tonks hugged her knees. “What will happen first?”

Remus’ joints tightened and he flinched.

“Ignore me,” she added quickly, “this is the worst possible time to ask - ”

“No,” he said softly. "It’s alright. I can tell you. Soon - perhaps in twenty minutes or so - I’ll have severe hot flushes and the aches will turn to stabbing pains. That’s when the panic tends to set in. Even I, who have suffered hundreds of full moons, feel as afraid as if it were the first time. Never becoming used to it is part of the curse. Though the body and mind degrade, they never adapt.”

“And then…when the moon actually rises…?”

“First the shaking,” he heard her breathing quicken as he spoke, “and then the joints begin to crack apart, the bones twist to form a new skeleton, the skin rips and the - the fur breaks through. New eyes and teeth emerge and,” he swallowed, horribly dizzy now, “nails are pushed out by claws. It’s all over in a matter of minutes.”

“Is it like the Cruciatus Curse?”

“The agony is not so severe as that, though it is more…specific. And I’m not sure anything can quite compare to the final moments, when it is consciousness itself that transforms, when everything that makes me myself is…violated…caged…”

Tonks bunched her thick hair in her hands and held it against the lower half of her face.

“If ever I deserved it, it’s tonight,” Remus whispered.

“You know I hate it when you say stupid things like that.”

The light shifted. It was time to go where she could not help him.

“Tonks?”

She must have heard the fear in his voice because her eyes became round. “Yeah?”

“Will you stay?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

——————

Remus was drowning. He tried to cough but made only a terrible, wet gurgling sound. All he knew was hot iron, hot iron saturating his throat, filling his nose, clogging his windpipe, drenching his skin. Every breath asphyxiated him, every heartbeat damned him; he was coming apart, emptying. A numb hand scrabbled limply at his throat. His legs, weak as a baby’s, tried to push him along but when his skull met the bottom step he knew he could go no further. His eyes rolled back, but his brain was intact, desperate.

_No. I can’t leave her. I can’t leave my child._

There was a piercing, horrifying light.

_I don’t want to die._

Words echoed around him, but he couldn’t understand them.

“…I’m here…I’m here…I’ve got you…”

————-

The bedroom was a beautiful garden. Remus was bobbing on the ceiling, floating on his back. Vines snaked the walls and pink flowers blossomed, their soft insides pulsing. Sunlight twinkled on Tonks’ face as she spread something glittering over his lower leg before winding it in spiralling, endlessly spiralling, cloth. She was a vision. He smiled at her. He lifted his arm - which was made of water, the fingers rippling - and took her hand. She squeezed, just once, in reply then gently tugged her fingers back.

“I rushed the last batch of healing potion,” her words blurred and multiplied in his ears, “I might have gone overboard on the wormwood, so if you’re tripping out right now, that’s why.”

He blinked slowly, seeing blue sparks at the tips of his eyelashes. He tried to ask what had happened but a far away pain, like an ancient bruise, stopped him.

“Long story short, you managed to cut your own throat. Thank Merlin it happened right before sunrise otherwise I’d have found you dead instead of just dying. Here,” she held out a mug with a straw, “this should clear your head.”

He sipped the cloyingly sweet liquid and the dancing flora began to fade.

“You’re just lucky I was here and too paranoid not to break the door down when you didn’t come out.”

Still dazed, Remus looked slowly around the room. What was now Tonks’ bedroom was a mess of colour: everything that had once been kept inside a drawer had been spat out of it. The floor was barely visible under piles of clothes which also hung off every piece of furniture, even from the bristles of her broomstick. The walls had been stripped of every photograph save one: he, Tonks and Sirius on his birthday years ago. The daze left him as soon as his eyes reached the dressing table. It was littered with empty potion bottles, bloodied scraps of material, powder smudges and an overturned mortar of frantically ground leaves. Steam billowed in from the hallway, coming from the spare room where Mad Eye’s enormous cauldron lived. Instead of Tonks’ smell, there was only the acrid scent of ointment, charred ingredients and blood.

Tonks finished tying the bandage at his leg, using the same knot Sirius used to favour. The ends of her hair were stained the colour of rust. Thinking of how she would have found him - naked, twitching, bleeding out on the basement floor - Remus wanted to dip his head and cover his face, but his neck was wrapped in bandages as thick as his chin.

“I wanted to spare you all of this,” he rasped.

Tonks snorted humourlessly. “How’s that working out for you?”

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry… I should be thanking you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“Yes I do. You shouldn’t have to nurse someone who’s hurt you as unforgivably as I have.”

She sighed a little through her nose. “I might be furious at you for just about every other reason Remus, but not for needing my help. It’s not your fault you hurt yourself.”

“I don’t usually hurt myself quite as catastrophically as this. I think you’ve had the unhappy distinction of saving me from the worst full moon injury of my life.”

“It never rains but it pours, as my Dad might say.”

She hooked her legs underneath her and he felt her warm weight near his feet. Exhaustion threatened to take him, but he wouldn’t let it, not when he had this precious opportunity to speak with her.

“How are you?”

“Me? I’m not the one who looks like something from Bill’s years in the pyramids.”

“I’d still very much like to know how you are.”

“You know me, I’m a tough cookie.”

Remus waited for her to say more, but she didn’t.

“I hope you know that I’m here if you do want to talk - about anything, absolutely anything,” he said, though speaking was a strain. “I’ll do whatever I can to make it easier for us to be friends.”

“Friends,” Tonks repeated, in a way Remus wasn’t sure was a question or not.

“If - if that’s what you want…”

She became very still. “None of this is what I want.”

“I know, I didn’t mean - ”

“You dumped me, not the other way around.”

“I know. I know and I’m in hell because of it,” the words hissed from his injured throat, “I wish I could turn back the clock, take it all back, every terrible thing - ”

Tonks scrunched up her face and clambered off the bed. “Stop.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, the memories of it are torture to me - ”

“Just stop!”

Remus had to press a fist against his dry lips to stop the sentences flooding out.

“I _begged_ you to stay,” Tonks stamped the floor. “Do you have any idea what that’s like? And now you’re back, being oh so _kind_ and oh so _stable_ , as if there’s no other side to you.”

“You’ll never see that other side again, I swear to you. No one will. I’m making sure of it.”

“You know what would have been really great? If you’d put that effort in a little fucking earlier!”

“I’m so sorry - ”

Tonks let out a growl of frustration. “This is pointless.”

She turned her back on him. Remus’ neck spasmed as he tilted his head back, trying to stop his tears from falling. It was a long time before Tonks spoke again.

“I had a lousy night’s sleep,” the breeze fluttered her blood-stained hair as she stared out of the window, “I kept on thinking of you. Of the wolf. Howling down there in the basement, hurling itself against the bricks, raging on and on and on, totally powerless to do anything except tear itself up.” She turned to look at him, her dry eyes meeting his wet ones. “I don’t want to be like that. If anger helps me to fly faster or fight harder or tell right from wrong, then great. But if it only twists me up inside, what good is it to me?”

Remus wished he had the strength to stand. “Your anger towards me isn’t some blind, monstrous rage. It’s justified. And it’s alright if you need to vent at me. We can talk about what happened as much as you want to. It might help.”

Tonks sat back down on the bed and Remus tried not to wince as the bounce of the mattress ricocheted through his bones.

“We’ve done so much talking. We talked and talked when you left. We talked and talked when you got back. And I’ve replayed it all a thousand times. You know what you’ve done and I know why you did it. I’ve got Mum and Dad for when I need to rant and I’ve got photographs of our stupid happy faces for when I need to cry. I could yell at you, repeat over and over all the shitty things you did and said, make you flagellate yourself with a bunch of stinging nettles all up and down the garden path, but you’re already doing that to yourself in your own head. I can tell. I know you.”

Tonks sighed and kneaded her fingers into a sore muscle on her shoulder. Remus wished he could reach out and do it for her.

“I might have bitten your head off about us being friends, but I know what you’re getting at - and I think you’re right. I’m not old-fashioned, I don’t think our kid needs us to be together in any kind of romantic sense, but I’d like for it to have parents who get along, who can at least be a sort of team. It’ll be hard raising a baby together if all I want to do is chuck nappies at your head. I guess what I’m trying to say is…I’m working on it.”

Remus found it impossible to tell her what he thought without it sounding like a declaration of love. “I’m grateful, more grateful than I can put into words, but…I don’t want you to feel any pressure,” he finished lamely, “I betrayed you. So if you do have to chuck the occasional nappy at my head, I won’t complain.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

She smiled, the first smile he’d seen since before he’d left her, and he felt exhilarated and flayed by it both at once. She leant forward to adjust the bandage at his neck and whispered a charm to take the edge off the growing pangs. Remus lowered his gaze: being close enough to feel the soft tickle of her breath on his skin was more excruciating than any full moon wound could ever be.

“There’s something I need to ask you,” he said once she’d sat safely back again, praying he wasn’t about to ruin their new accord.

She frowned. “What is it?”

“Did you feel anything last night? Anything unusual?”

Her reply was firm, but not unkind. “No.”

“I suppose it’s too early to know…only a little over eight weeks…”

“Been keeping track of the weeks, have you?”

“Yes. Yes…and…I…”

He longed to discuss the pregnancy, had so many questions for her, but his head was growing heavier; the words drifted apart letter by letter in his mind.

“You need rest,” said Tonks, her eyes darting over his face. “Here - I’ve got a sleeping draught ready.”

She plopped the straw into a second mug and held it out to him. He drank and faded almost immediately from the room. When he finally woke, she - and her broomstick - were gone.

——————-

On the same day Remus peeled the dressings from his throat, revealing a shiny red wheal of scar tissue, the Order met for their first meeting since the Ministry’s fall. It was late summer’s final heatwave and the air was moist, though Remus felt a nervous chill from his toes to his fingertips as he and Tonks walked together out of the house.

“What will we tell them?” He blurted, stopping halfway down the path.

Tonks faced him and he burnt beneath her stare. Though their conversation had led to a better atmosphere between them, she had remained distant and there had been little change to their estranged routine.

“Nothing. I trust the Order with my life, but anyone who gets captured will be tortured for information and I’m not willing to risk it. Bellatrix can’t find out I’m pregnant.”

“Secrecy is best. I agree.”

“The only people who know are me and you, Mum and Dad, Molly, Harry, Ron and Hermione - and it’s going to stay that way. Come on.”

She started walking again. The yellow hair at the nape of her neck beneath her enormous globe-shaped bun was curly and damp. She was overdressed for the temperature: her torso hidden beneath a baggy, psychedelic shirt.

“Besides,” she said, stopping at the edge of the anti-apparition area and pulling out her wand. “I’m in no mood for the questions, the congratulations, the poking and prodding, the unsolicited advice. I want none of it.”

“What about…?”

Remus hesitated. Tonks paused the arc of her wand and tilted her head to one side. He tried not to remember how they used to side-along together, how she would smack kisses onto his face; distracting him at the very last moment, making him laugh until his cheeks ached.

“What should we tell them about us? About our…not being together anymore.”

“Nothing about that either. Let’s go.”

She disapparated before he could ask her if she was sure: leaving him alone and wondering why.

The meeting was held in a heavily-fortified tent made from the scraps of Bill and Fleur’s marquee, pitched invisibly inside a copse of trees on the South Downs. The air was damp and close, heavy with too many bodies in a small space. Remus sat down opposite Tonks whose brave smile soon dropped into a glower as Bill proceeded to nibble Fleur’s earlobe beside her. Remus, too, found small talk impossible. It was all he could do to keep his left hand concealed under the table and resist the desire to sink from his chair down onto the dry earth as he waited for the imminent arrival of Ted and Andromeda. Don’t be a coward, he told himself, but he couldn’t stop every hair on his body standing on end when they entered the tent. Ted’s jaw stiffened but he said nothing, only placed a hand on his wife’s back to lead her inside. Andromeda’s eyes pierced Remus, not leaving his face even as she took a seat on Tonks’ left.

“Everything alright?”

Bill had looked up from Fleur’s neck and was frowning, glancing from Remus to the three Tonks and back again.

“Where’s Kingsley?” Tonks asked, loudly. “He’s the only one missing.”

Worry rippled through the quietening tent and the heat deepened as they waited. Just as Remus was beginning to lose hope, the tent flaps opened and Kingsley dived inside.

“Don’t say the name!” He exclaimed, his hands hitting the table.

His collar was loose, his fine robes were torn at the shoulder and blood mingled with sweat in a drying river at his temple. Remus stood up and put a hand on Kingsley’s shoulder to steady him.

“What has happened?”

“Don’t say the name,” Kingsley repeated, catching his breath. “There’s been a taboo placed upon it. A group of Death Eaters appeared out of nowhere as soon as it crossed my lips. It must be a new way of tracking down those resisting. It was four on one but I bested them. I think it’s safe to assume that my employment at the Ministry of Magic has been terminated though.”

It was a blow: Arthur was now the sole remaining Order member inside the Ministry.

Tonks patted Kingsley on the back. “Welcome to the club, mate.”

Kingsley returned her sad smile.

“The two of you are still Aurors in the eyes of everyone here,” said Remus, “and when the war is won, you’ll don your black robes once again.”

Cheers greeted his words. Fred and George hammered their fists on the table, but Ted and Andromeda looked mutinous. Tonks raised her eyebrows.

“…I managed to get a glimpse at Umbridge’s budgeting papers yesterday,” said Kingsley, smoothing out the Daily Prophet’s double-page spread of unregistered muggleborns. “Gold will be offered in exchange for the capture of anyone on this list.”

“It’s only a matter of time until hunting parties spring up,” said Arthur, shaking his head.

“So we’ll hunt the hunters,” said Tonks. “See how they like being tracked down.”

“Nymphadora,” Andromeda whispered, “I don’t think you should be - ”

Tonks silenced her mother with what Remus suspected to be a kick under the table.

“Tonks is right. We find them, take zair wands, confund them,” said Fleur.

“And free anyone they may have already caught,” said Bill. “Get them safe passage out of the country.”

“Remus, you’re skilled with magical documents, aren’t you? If I lend you my blood purity papers, can you try your hand at a forgery?”

“Thank you, Arthur. I’ll do my best.”

“And we’ll talk to Charlie,” said Fred. “If anyone can smuggle a bunch of muggleborns through Europe, it’s him.”

“It’s only a matter of time until the border closes,” Kingsley warned. “Any muggleborn left in the country better have a strong hiding place or else they’ll be forced to go on the run.”

Ted cleared his throat. “It, er, it says here there’ll be punishments for anyone harbouring muggleborn fugitives. Any idea what those might be, Kingsley?”

“Don’t worry about that, Dad,” said Tonks. “If anyone comes near you or Mum, they’ll have to reckon with me - which means they’ll be peeling bits of themselves off the ceiling for weeks, okay?”

Ted smiled weakly, but his eyes never left the list of names.

The meeting moved onto the impending Hogwarts return (McGonagall, unwilling to leave the castle, had sent a written report), then onto the latest disappearances and finally onto the prevailing mood of the country - at which point Lee Jordan leaned forward in his seat.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said, his eyes bright with excitement at attending his first Order meeting.

“It’s a corker,” said George. “Tell ‘em, Lee.”

“Pirate radio.”

A bemused silence greeted Lee’s words. He continued, undeterred.

“Let’s tell people what’s really going on! Let’s extend the resistance out beyond this tent and fight back against this rubbish,” he gestured to the paper, “by putting out our own news - the real news. You-know-who’s guaranteed to beat us if the ordinary people out there are too scared and confused to realise that, number one, we’re at war and, number two, we can _win_. We’ll grow the audience by word of mouth, using a different channel and a different password for each broadcast. No propaganda, no sugarcoating, but no fear-mongering either. _Potterwatch_ will be all about hope.”

“ _Potterwatch_?” Molly repeated.

“‘Cause Harry’s our best hope,” said Lee.

“I think it’s genius, Lee,” said Bill.

“A fantastic idea,” said Kingsley

“Brilliant,” Remus agreed.

Lee grinned at him. “You can have your own segment if you want, Professor! ‘Pals of Potter’.”

Remus’ smile froze. The words were a knife sliding between his ribs.

“It won’t all be about the war, people need entertainment too,” Fred announced, puffing out his chest in a manner reminiscent of Percy, “I’m planning a few soliloquys - Shakespeare, mostly - and Fleur’s been rehearsing her version of A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love, haven’t you sis?”

The meeting dissolved into the swapping of jokes, ideas and code names - the mere concept of _Potterwatch_ already sparking hope - but not even the sound of Tonks laughing again could keep Remus from his descent into fresh, isolating guilt.

“This is all very nice, but I fail to see how a radio show is going to help us find Harry, Ron and Hermione,” Molly raised her voice over the noise of the tent, tears in her eyes. “Am I the only one present who thinks we should be focusing our efforts on bringing them to safety? What is the Order of the Phoenix _for_ if we leave the most dangerous mission in the hands of three children? Surely, I’m not alone in feeling this way - I’m not the only parent around this table after all!”

To Remus’ surprise, it was Andromeda who broke the uneasy silence to answer. “It’s not right for this burden to have fallen on three so young,” she said in a low voice, “but it seems they do not wish to be found. Even the very best parents are powerless against wills as strong as theirs.”

“Remus, you agree with me,” said Molly, turning to him in exasperation. “Don’t you?”

“We have to trust in them,” he said quietly. “As Dumbledore did.”

The meeting ended under a cloud of tension. Goodbyes were whispered, hugs were awkward and Remus found it difficult to even look anyone in the face - especially Bill who, after Tonks shrugged off the question he whispered into her ear, only looked more suspiciously in his direction. Before they disapparated, Molly thrust two cloth bags into Remus and Tonks’ hands, muttering something about clearing out her cupboards and turning on her heel before they could thank her.

That evening, after yet another meal eaten in solitude, Remus lit a pair of candles and sat down at the dining table. He opened the bag Molly had given him and reached inside. He pulled out a fat, well-thumbed book. It was stuffed with hand-written notes and the title - _Magical Maternity: A Complete Guide_ \- was almost too faded to make out. He breathed in its comforting dusty smell, glanced at the firelight flickering on the three marriage rings, then began to read.

———

“Oi,” someone poked at his shoulder, “I thought I told you to sleep on the sofa.”

Remus raised his stiff neck. “Wh- Tonks - er, sorry! What time is it?”

“One in the morning.”

He rubbed his eyes. He had gotten as far as the third trimester, but had nodded off with his face planted onto a vividly detailed cross-section diagram. He looked up at Tonks, feeling a blush creep over his cheeks: she was wearing a huge t-shirt, her expression soft and amused.

“Can’t sleep,” she said. “I figured hot chocolate is the next best thing to beer. You want one?”

Remus nodded, his heart leaping at the prospect of sharing something with her. She could have offered him a glass of pond water and he would have accepted it gladly.

“I’m learning a lot about Mad Eye living here, you know,” she called from the kitchen. “A whole drawer full of Malmo’s Marshmallows. Who knew?”

“Alastor was a man of many dark secrets.”

Remus’ heart pounded as she returned holding two mugs heaped with swirls of cream and dotted with silver marshmallows which changed their animal shape every few seconds, from mice, to moose, to manatees…

“What are you reading?”

He propped the heavy volume up to show her the cover. “Molly kindly leant it to us.”

“Oh. Crikey.”

A shadow of worry passed over her face and she quickly took a sip of her hot chocolate, wincing as she burnt her tongue.

“Anything in there to explain why I’d quite like to add a dollop of marmite to this?”

Remus flipped to the index. “Er…”

“I’m joking. Kind of.”

“I think odd cravings are normal, especially now you’re almost at ten weeks…”

“Right,” said Tonks, chewing slowly on a marshmallow.

“Not that I’m any kind of expert,” Remus said quickly, “I’ve got an awful lot to learn.”

“That makes two of us.”

Tonks rubbed one foot against her bare ankle. Her face wore its usual guarded expression, but there was something delicate about her eyes.

Remus pulled deep from a well of courage. “Perhaps we could read together? Until you feel sleepy again.”

The room was very still until Tonks said, “Go on then.”

She took a seat beside him. Remus closed the book and opened it again at the first page.


End file.
